


Burn Me With Fire

by Shadowblayze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: (Eventual) Familial!Varia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Different!HP, Earth Flames, Mentor!Xanxus, Seriously they are professionals, Shattered!Sky, Sky Flames, The Varia are badass assassins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 105,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6562171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowblayze/pseuds/Shadowblayze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the encounter with Quirrell, Harry's world drastically changes. </p><p>In (sleep) comes a foul-mouthed man with a healthy amount of disregard (of reality). </p><p>Or, where Harry meets a man who could somehow talk while encased in ice, and his world tilts, spins, and implodes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm going through and editing this, so I thought I would cross-post it from ffnet. I had honestly forgotten that it hadn't been posted over here just yet)
> 
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> 
> Author’s Notes:
> 
> In an effort to cut down on author’s notes, I’m going to put a few (or more than a few, sorry!) things here at the very beginning. Just to make things pretty clear so we all can be happy, ok?
> 
> 1) This story is AU and a Crossover with KHR. The divergences begin to occur after Harry’s fight with Quirrell.
> 
> 2) Hermione and Ron are not bashed- I try not to bash anyone- however they both sort of fall by the wayside. This is not to bash them or to twist them into little menaces of doom. I plan to have them show up much later, but they need time to grow up. Their childhoods were much, much different than Harry’s and for all they are good solid friends to canon!Harry, this Harry has a mentor! Harry’s changes in personality will seem strange to them.
> 
> 3) Harry changes progressively due to Xanxus’ mentorship. Xanxus is the Varia Boss and Harry is an abused child who survived an attempt made on his life by a member of his school’s faculty. With Xanxus in the picture- so to speak- Harry matures and begins to learn to think for himself. This is a very important point as canon!Harry really had no one do this for him!! Canon!Harry had a distinct lack of mentors, if you will recall, and Xanxus isn’t one to let talent rot, no matter what Harry’s physical age might be. This is a major divergence!
> 
> 4) Character perspectives. There is no one in this fic who is all knowing, so character perspectives reflect that.
> 
> 5) The Varia are badass assassins who are, essentially, the Mafia’s version of James Bond. They are small, excellent at their jobs and unquestionably lethal. Running into situations unprepared or haphazardly is not their style. For all their personal quirks they are professionals, the very best of the very best. Remember that they will not make a move unless they feel assured of their success.
> 
> 6) Headcannon says that the Varia are about half the size of the CEDEF- who have around 700 members. However, the Varia are also responsible for a lot less, overall, than the CEDEF. The Varia are the assassins, the shadows in the night. Meanwhile the CEDEF is- supposed to be- the greatest intelligence gathering agency in the world. The CEDEF needs to track world governments, police organizations, and a host of other things on top of keeping up with the intel gathering of the underworld, in order to properly advise the Vongola Boss.
> 
> 7) Google Translate is my friend, but the wonderful Ghiro kindly corrected several spots where Translate failed me. The story summary is also courtesy of the lovely shadowleaves. Rikkamaru kindly allowed Chapter 7 to go forward, even though a certain pair of characters ended up being eerily similar to a few points in her fic Cumulonimbus. Sailor Dying-Will pointed out a logic error in Chapter 9, so thanks to her for that!
> 
> 8) This is not a pairing-driven fic. However there could be any number of pairings and this could very well include slash. Harry is sort of tactile during certain points but that does not mean that the touch is sexually charged. Harry is trying to overcome his past, but neglect is a tortuous form of abuse and it leaves scars behind. Touch is important to Harry, especially after Xanxus’ plan comes together and Harry is whole again.
> 
> 9) Headcannon for the Flames is that once the world had a roughly equal number of Earth Flame users and Sky Flame users. It was balanced and happy. Then things went sideways and the Earth Flames tapered off until there were only a handful of them left. So, the people start from what they know and then progress from there.
> 
> 10) Xanxus has plans for Harry’s group. Unfortunately Harry’s group cannot be easily linked to the Varia once they move past Hogwarts and into the Mafia proper. This is why they have codenames. I know they are kind of a pain, but they have an actual purpose.
> 
> Thanks for reading this massive note! Sorry it was so long!! 
> 
> Now on to the story~!  
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** Burn Me With Fire **

Summary:  After the encounter with Quirrell, Harry's world drastically changes. In (sleep) comes a foul-mouthed man with a healthy amount of disregard (of reality).  Or, where Harry meets a man who could somehow talk while encased in ice, and his world tilts, spins, and implodes. _{_ Mentor!Xanxus, Different!HP, and eventual Familial!Varia. _}_

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Prologue

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_Magic is a tricky, multifaceted element._

_It (she?) is semi-sentient and yet mostly passive unless called by the will of her wielder.  This is why so few ‘witches’ and ‘wizards’ ever manifest the fabled Elemental Soulfires- because their magic acts in accordance to their will.  Typically either their magic to carries them to victory or they die.  The precious, precious few who do manifest both of these gifts- and truly understand that they wield two types of power instead of only one- are terrible and great; feared and beloved._

_Morgana le Fey and Myrridin Emrys were two such examples- one ‘Dark’ and one ‘Light’ for even in greatness and power there must be balance._

_Magic resides in the blood while the Flames come forth from the soul._

_Magic reflects breeding, choice, and practice.  Magic allows for a certain amount of misdirection or deception, beholden to the will of its wielder. Flames, however, burst forth unrepentantly from the truest, rawest part of a person- from their very soul.  Thereby showcasing who that person was without any masks or training or choice, baring their soul to the world in all of its fiery glory.  The good and the bad; the desired and the undesired, all of those things revealed for all to see._

_For though all people are different- unique- certain traits were prevalent for each element.  Something that terrified those in positions of power.  For no power could possibly be worth what the Soulfires revealed about a person, not when Houses were built on secrecy and kept in power through the systematic oppression of the lower classes.  How would the rulers keep the servants at heel if they knew they could fight with more than just what little magic the leaders were willing to teach?  If the Squibs learned that they were not powerless in the face of veiled tyranny?_

_Fear- primal and desperate fear- drove the early magicals who knew of the true nature of the Elemental Soulfires to renounce them as an ‘unholy, corrupted power’.  For who would wish to chance such a power, when it revealed so much, so freely?  So Flames were cast out of written memory among the magical nations, soul magic in and of itself banned, reviled, and abhorred._

_Therefore those- magical and nonmagical- who survived the purges that came in the wake of the fall of Avalon- a time of great upheaval across the globe, in all spheres of influence- were left alone, as over time the magicals forgot they existed.  Resilient, the Soulfire-wielding peoples nursed their wounds and emerged smarter, harder, and more determined to keep their secrets._

_When the Statue of Secrecy was invoked many thing were preserved- but likewise many things were lost.  Those who were deemed ‘unworthy’ or ‘unnecessary’ were cast out of the newly born ‘Magical World’.  These people were cut loose with poorly-executed memory modifications, left bereft of information, money, land or anything else that could have made the transition smoother, and so they scattered as they searched for a place to call home._

_It didn’t take long for these wanderers to disappear into the masses, and for the Magical World to move forward without them._

_The magic in their blood lay dormant without the infusion of established magical blood to catalyze the creation of magical cores.  Yet, power calls to power, and over the ensuing centuries- through countless battles, war and death- the castaways were found and folded into the secret communities that had been in hiding since the dark days.  Slowly- ever so slowly and cautiously- a new secretive society was founded on the scattered ashes of a lost inheritance._

_The Flames of the Dying Will- or the Dying Will Flames- as they had came to be called.  Beautiful, otherworldly Flames that manifested at the point of no return.  Bright, effervescent lights at the darkest hour._

_While it would stand to reason that one would think that the magical governments would be aware or at least monitor the movements of these extraordinary, nonmagical people- people who could dodge bullets, make solid illusions, and call overwhelming power to their aid- in reality no such thing occurred._

_The sad truth of the matter was that the by the time of the founding of the International Confederation of Wizards- an oversight committee to keep the magical world as a whole from the ever-expanding nonmagical population- the knowledge of Soulfire had already been lost .  The ICW is also a young organization by comparison.  Established after the near-exposure of the magical populations following the outbreak Great War, the ICW had no real power outside of the Regulators.  The Regulators being a multi-national team of individuals who are dedicated to the meticulous erasure of the existence of magic from the world at large.  At barely five-hundred people strong they are an incredibly small force for such a monumental, vitally important task._

_The British Isles and their Ministry for Magic are an unusual example of a central, strong magical government, as the Isles have retained one of the highest progressive magic-wielding populations in the world._

_Most of the world’s magic-using populations were split into two distinct categories following the enactment of the Statute- the progressive magicals and the strict isolationists._

_There were the progressive magicals.  Smaller families who were established following the dissolution of the greater House system.  These families were those who continued to send their children to be educated at independently established schools-such as Hogwarts.  Schools such as Hogwarts had already been in the practice of using an apprentice-styled system for the students to pay the school back for teaching them how to properly wield magic.  So the impact of the Statute was rather minimal overall to such places.  There were still titled Houses, of course, but these Houses were no longer the absolute establishments they had been before the Statute had broken up their operating system.  There were still loyalty vows and the like sworn to these Houses by the offshoot branches that quickly formed, but they were no longer Sovereigns in their own right._

_Eventually loose governments popped up among these progressive magicals- such as the Ministry for Magic in Great Britain- mostly established with the assistance of the titled Houses.  In deference to their assistance the Houses were allowed a considerable amount of leeway not afforded to the newer, small families who were beginning to form outside of the control of the Houses as time progressed._

_Then there were those Houses who chose to become even more insulated after the implementation of the Statute.  Meaning that children who were born into the service of a ruling House- as their ancestors before them- were educated locally.  People under the rule of an absolute monarch such as these are only allowed to leave their region by the grace of their Sovereign.  These Houses are the stringent isolationists who maintain as little contact with the progressive magicals as possible, let alone the nonmagicals.  These Houses strictly maintain their bloodlines and traditions and are prone to executing those who attempt to leave without permission, despite the loyalty and secrecy vows that have been sworn by the families for generations._

_This history of secrecy was what prevented the countries rising together against threats such as the Dark Lord Voldemort._

_While there were Auror forces in the progressive magical nations, there was no central sort of government or authority to unite the scattered peoples against specific threats.   The ICW was an oversight committee as opposed to a higher authority which meant there was little that they- as a body- could do in terms of threats posed to individual nations.  Though the ICW was used as a neutral ground for negotiations occasionally, they were more focused on preserving the Statute than policing individual countries._

_The closer one traveled to the countries of Asia, the less likely you were to find progressive magicals, the isolationists being shrouded in mystery even to the progressive magical governing bodies._

_The same could be said of the tribes of Africa, each having their own unique take on magic, but forbidden to speak of it to outsiders._

_The Americas had no real magical populations to speak of- outside of the surviving Native American tribes- as most of the surviving lines that had immigrated fled to Mexico or Canada during the Second Witch Hunts._

_South America, Australia, and New Zealand were mostly isolationists.  Though Australia boasts a small, thriving progressive magical population their policies leaned more toward isolationists than progressives, meaning their laws were quite restrictive._

_Thus, the Flames- or Soulfire- and their wielders are principally unknown to progressive magicals- even to men such as the prodigious Albus Dumbledore- as they are Flames born of the **soul,** and soul magic is the most taboo subject in any progressive magical population.  Any who have studied such things feared above all others and shunned by the societies at large._

_Tom Marvolo Riddle learned of the Flames from the meticulously-kept diary of a Mafioso.  Tom had killed the man by accident- the man had been attempting to kidnap him and Tom had pulled from that strange well of power inside of him to make the man stop- at the age of eight in downtown London._

_It took much trial and error to unlock the protective measures on the diary- long after he learned of Hogwarts, part of the reason why he studied so far ahead of his peers- for something inside him told young Tom that the diary was **important.**_

_Eventually, he succeeded in unlocking the book and it told him of secrets far beyond that which he had ever imagined._

_The stories of the man’s ‘Sky’ and the abilities described by each ‘Guardians’ gave Tom the basis for what would someday be his ‘Inner Circle’.  The idea of the Sky’s ‘Harmony’ was the fundamental basis for the future ‘Dark Mark’ and the reason why cutting off the arm that the Mark was placed on would do absolutely nothing to remove the Mark itself.  Tom committed the book to memory and burned it, less interested in the mafia and more in using the tactics to take over the British magical population._

_For if such power as the Flames were hidden even from the Old Families, what other secrets could he uncover?  What other power existed in the world that he could make his own?_

_Tom managed to awaken the Flames of the Sky during the summer before his Sixth Year at Hogwarts.  It confirmed to him his own thoughts of superiority, of his right to rule over the sheep.  Tom resolved then that there was only power and those too weak to understand that- to seek power beyond what was handed to them by their teachers or parents- were unworthy to rule._

_When Tom discovered the existence of Horcruxes in the library at Hogwarts the following winter, he came to the conclusion that the ‘bits of soul’ mentioned were actually specific Flames, stored into containers to keep the whole soul from passing on.  He based this theory on what he’d read in the Mafioso’s diary.  The man had described how even if the body of a person technically expired the person could be ‘brought back’ so long as the Flame was kept burning._

_Tom hypothesized that to make more than one Horcrux one needed to have more than one Flame, as a soul without a Flame in a Flame-active person would only be a shell of madness.  Tom assumed that his magical blood could- and would- keep him grounded even without the individual pieces of his Flames, and so came his plan to make seven Horcruxes- one for each Flame._

_So it was that two veiled worlds collided in the mind of a brilliant, callous Magic-wielding Sky who craved power above all else._

_A monster was born; one who wore the skin of a charming, intelligent man._

_The imbalance-for even in greatness and power there must always, always be balance- that allowed the rise of the Dark Lord Voldemort went unchecked as he tore a bloody swath through the world that he professed to love.  Yet now magic moved to balance the scales, aided by the desperation of a mother who wanted only for her baby to survive._

_Shrouded in the mists of time, that particular world’s version of Sepira’s- well, her imprint, really- smiled.  Her heart’s song rang out clearly as one of the final prophecies of the most powerful Seer the Earthborn had ever produced began to unravel._

_“Good luck, little one.”  The imprint of Sepira breathed into the void as her plans began to take shape and her form began to unravel, her long watch over her home over at long last.  “I’m so sorry for the hell you must go through, but I have faith in you.  Go forth and carve out a brighter future for your world.  For all worlds fortunate enough to be connected to yours.”_

In his hidden place Kawahira shuddered even as his head snapped upwards in alarm, as he felt a change occurring- a shift in the timeline of a world doomed for destruction- and behind his checkered mask he smiled.

_‘Let’s see how this new timeline plays out, eh?’_

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** Chapter One **

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Harry was eleven and fighting for his life against a man who had been willingly hosting the essence of his parent’s murderer all year when it happened.

The man- _demon_ \- reached for him.  Harry’s body was battered and bloody and broken and coiled in immovable ropes.  Harry knew with crystal-clear certainty that his year of lackluster magical education afforded him _no hope_ of beating this person, of surviving this situation. Harry _knew_ he was going to _die_ -

-then something inside him _snapped_.

There was the interval of a heartbeat- a single terrifyingly long heartbeat that seemed to stretch on forever- during which Harry’s unblinking eyes remained avidly locked onto the snarling, sneering visage of his parent’s murderer. Soon to be _his_ murderer, an absent part of him noted idly.

 _‘I’m sorry, mum, dad.’_   He thought brokenly as frustrated tears welled up in his eyes. ‘ _I’m sorry that your sacrifice only bought me ten years.  I’m sorry that those ten years were spent with the Dursleys, and that I never really got to live.  Will you turn me away, when we meet in the afterlife for being so pathetic?’_

Harry’s headache finally reached an excruciating crescendo- he couldn’t _see_ or _breathe_ or _hea_ r and he just knew that this was the _end_.

Then there was the feeling of something _shattering_ inside his skull, and he heard screams but he didn’t know who, what, when, or where- but he followed the feeling of something inside him that screamed at him to _move._ So Harry lunged forward to plant his flaming hands- and he had no time to properly contemplate the novel fact that _his hands were on fire_ \- solidly against his aggressor’s face.

The smell of burning flesh, smoke, fire, and death filled his nose and his mouth, but Harry pressed on in spite of choking on the cloying ash.   All Harry knew as the darkness took him was that he _won,_ though he vaguely noted the wispy black cloud that rose above the fires and _fled._

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Harry woke up in the Hospital Wing nearly a week later, disoriented and groggy.  He patiently listened as his friends fussed over him, grateful beyond words that Ron and Hermione were alright.  After they left, ushered out by the formidable Madam Pomfrey, Headmaster Dumbledore came to visit.

The Headmaster informed him that his survival was once again due to his mother’s love.  Aching with the desire to know as much as possible about the wonderful woman who had loved him so much she had saved his miserable life _twice_ \- and figuring that he could at least owl order books that mentioned Lily Potter or listen to stories from Hagrid, who was always willing to talk to him about his parents- Harry begged to stay at the school over the summer.

Yet, no matter how much Harry begged to not return to the empty place he had called home for the better part of a decade, he received an implacable, but not unkind, _no_.

_“My boy, you need to return to the house where your mother’s blood dwells to recharge the Blood Wards or do you want her sacrifice to be in vain?  They’re your family Harry, they can’t be that terrible.  I’m sure it’s just your youth exaggerating, m’boy.”  The Headmaster smiled at him one last time, ate a Bertie Botts bean-“‘Ah, alas.  Earwax.”-and departed from the Infirmary._

_Harry had been left alone with the knowledge that he had killed a grown man who had been hosting the soul of his parent’s murderer with his own two hands and no one seemed to care.  The knowledge that in less than a day he would be headed back to Privet Drive and a summer of servitude did nothing to ease his troubled mind._

Harry listened apathetically- his persistently aching head pressed against the magically cooled glass of the train- as Hermione rambled on about her parent’s summer plans and Ron moaned about his upcoming summer chores.  Harry tried to keep his breathing steady as they chugged closer and closer to King’s Cross station and his summer prison.

As he stared sightlessly out the window of the compartment, he allowed his thoughts to drift, lulled by the sounds of his friends voices.  It wasn’t all that difficult, really, and no one commented on his lack of desire to speak.  For all that he was okay in the moment, the memory of a man burning beneath his fingers was traumatic and he hadn’t slept decently since he had woken from his coma-like state.

Harry was keenly aware that he was far from stupid; he simply preferred to get by unnoticed. 

If there was one thing life in the Dursley household had taught him it is that _unnoticed_ meant _unmolested._   When he was young and still trying to gain the approval of his family he had done everything he could to get noticed- perfect chores, good manners, good grades.  Yet then he had woken up one day-on his birthday with no cake or presents or acknowledgement as he watched Aunt Petunia coo over Dudley’s ‘C’ paper from remedial math- and Harry had realized that he was _never going to be Dudley._

This unpleasant revelation, however, had left him with the predicament of what to do about his ‘station’ in life.  He had decided to experiment- just in case he was overreacting.  So, for the following weeks he progressively did slightly less than perfect chores, loosened his hold on his manners, and started doing barely enough to pass in his classes.  Dishearteningly, he realized that these things _pleased_ the Dursleys.  His home life was actually more pleasant when the Dursleys adults had concrete things to complain about to the neighbors.  Neighbors who all raptly listened to the hybrid truthful fiction that his so-called family spewed, with vicious, eager anticipation.  It was at that point that little Harry had opened his eyes to the world at large and realized that seeing him fail made his family _happy._

The only thing that kept him from breaking down entirely was the quiet, barely-heard whisper inside his mind that insisted that such behavior _wasn’t_ _normal._   Still, it was that day that little eight-year-old Harry realized that the only person that he could rely on to get him out of Little Whinging and away from his _fake family_ was _himself_.

Then Hagrid had come with fantastic tales of _magic_ and a cake- and life after that magical night had seemed like a fairytale.  For the first time in _ages_ Harry had felt hope that he could actually be someone important- had discovered that his parents had been amazing people, wonderful people who had wanted him.  Surely people as amazing as his parents had friends, right?  People who would save him from his prison once they knew the truth about the Dursleys? Harry could deal with the unwanted fame as long as he was somewhere he _belonged,_ wanted even _._  

Harry would be whatever they wanted as long as they would _accept him_.  He had purposefully ignored the jealousy in Ron’s eyes when he looked at Harry’s new schoolbooks and clothing, (even as Harry would gaze longingly at the ratty packages that Ron’s mum sent to her children every month, ones that Ron seemed embarrassed about and shoved in his trunk after barely looking at the handwritten notes that accompanied the sweets).  Harry resolutely ignored the way Hermione’s eyes would narrow angrily when he’d forget to hold back and get the spell before her in class when she _knew_ he hadn’t put in the hours that she had to learn the theory, (he’d patiently endure the forthcoming rants about spell theory and how it was _important_ and how he couldn’t go off _half-cocked_ all the time because he’d _screw up_ someday and then she’d have to _fix him_ ).

He smiled- bullshitted, honestly- his way through goodbyes on the magical side of the Barrier.  Once on the nonmagical side of King’s Cross, Harry greeted his uncle respectfully- easily falling back into old habits, even after ten months of freedom- and soon arrived back at his prison for the summer. 

He barely made it through the doorway- trying to shake off an unpleasant sensation sliding down his spine; the sensation he usually associated with warning him of impending danger- before his uncle rounded on him, face in a familiar hue of purple as he threatened the blank-faced Harry. “Now see here, boy.  Those-those _freaks_ sent us a letter that says you can’t do that _freakishness_ outside of school, so your things will go into the cupboard and any protest from you and they’ll go to the attic and _you’ll_ go to the cupboard, understand?  Your aunt has the list of chores posted on your bedroom wall so there will be absolutely no confusion over how you will be earning your keep, you hear me boy?”

 _‘Who was the idiot who told these arseholes that I can’t do magic over the hols?  That was my one hope for a relatively peaceful summer!  Thank all that is good and holy I let Hedwig out before I crossed the Barrier!’_  “Yes, Uncle Vernon.”  He replied obediently, already knowing that without the threat of magic it would be useless to argue as he moved to fulfill the demand.

He accepted his meager dinner from his beady-eyed aunt- ‘ _Oh, hell.  Hagrid used magic on Dudley- the only thing the horse loves more than her reputation, and she knows that I can’t use magic- how is this my life?!’-_ and wearily trudged his way up to his room, silently sending out a thankful prayer that Dudley’s school had run later than Hogwarts this year.

As Harry drifted off to sleep- his belly growling and his body still full of aches from his encounter with Quirrell- he absently wished that there was someone who cared enough about him to teach him to be _strong._  Because he wouldn’t mind putting his life on the line for people who _gave a damn about him_ for a change.  Nearly dying at the hand of a teacher- because he had felt he had _needed_ to protect the Stone and Professor McGonagall had refused to listen to them- and then being shipped off back to the Dursleys made him wish that he had never stepped foot in Hogwarts.

At least then he would not know what he was missing by being trapped here as the Dursley family’s servant boy.

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Harry knew for a fact that this was _not_ where he had fallen asleep.

It might have been the ice all around him that had clued him in a bit.  However, the tanned, dark haired male with the feathers in his hair, crimson red eyes- as opposed to Voldemort’s scarlet ones- who was glaring at him ferociously enough to put Snape’s usual glares to shame while being trapped in a cocoon of ice was his biggest clue. 

Seriously, a cocoon of ice.  Only the man’s face was uncovered; the rest of the body was frozen in the flame-patterned ice, unmoving despite the flexing and tensing of the muscles.

“The _fuck_ are you doing here, _trash_?” The man snarled at him in a rough, gravelly voice.  Harry could see the muscles flexing beneath the translucent shell, trying to move, but the ice refused to budge. 

However Harry was a bit distracted from his absent gratefulness that the muscled man was apparently stuck inside the ice, as what he heard didn’t seem to fit the movements of the other’s mouth.

Harry blinked bemusedly for a few moments before he sank down to a crossed-legged potion on the icy- but strangely warm- floor.  Harry levelled the man with an unimpressed look. “I’ve finally lost my mind, haven’t I?”

The other sneered even as he continued to struggle against the cocoon of ice that held him securely, but this time the words matched the mouth movements. “Looks like that’s _all_ you’ve got to lose, _trash_.”

Harry glanced down at his faithful Dursley hand-me-downs- apparently clothes could be _freakish_ so all of his new ones were securely in the cupboard, leaving him with last year’s pre-Hagrid clothes. “So, you’re what, the embodiment of all my self-hatred or something?  And why are you _old?_ ”

“ _Shut the fuck up, trash!”_

“Right. “  Harry huffed in bemused amusement as he rolled his eyes expressively.  Harry propped an elbow on a knee, idly observing the icy landscape around him. “Figures that my own self-delusion would be a callous potty mouth and call me trash.”

He heard a snarl, and some more words, but ignored them in favor of tracing the flame-like patterns in the ice.  ‘ _It’s almost like someone froze actual fire, but I don’t know any charms that can do that, so why would I dream of it?’_

Eventually, Harry spoke. “I killed a man.” He said contemplatively.

There was a beat of silence.  “Do you want a fucking cookie, _trash?”_

“Wow, I never knew that I could put that level of derision in a single word, something to look forward to, I guess.” Harry mused idly, ignoring the snarls coming from the man across from him. “Seriously though, I felt him disintegrate under my fingers.  Aren’t you supposed to get counseling for that kind of thing?  I mean, it happened while I was _at school_.”

Silence for another beat then an expectant. “Explain yourself, trash.”

Harry squinted at the other suspiciously. “You’re _me_ , aren’t you supposed to know what I know?”

He received a…rather impressive glare.  Harry had had no idea that the original glare could get anymore intense.  “Look, _trash_ , I don’t know who the _fuck_ you are or how you got here, but I am Xanxus of the fucking Von-Varia, now tell me how some motherfucker _disintegrated under your fingers_ at your fucking _school._ ”

Harry wanted to argue that his self-delusion naming itself was a _bad sign_ , but no one had ever truly _listened_ to him before.  For all Harry was convinced that this place- this man- was just a really weird dream that he’s never going to remember, something inside his chest loosened at the thought that someone might _want_ to hear what he has to say.  ‘ _Ah, screw it.’_   “I’d have to give you the backstory- there’s a lot of it.”

“I’m not fucking going anywhere, trash, so fucking talk.” The man trapped in the ice cocoon demanded.

So Harry did.

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Strangely, Harry remembered his strange dream in detail when the next morning came and with it his Aunt’s shrill voice shrieking at him to wake up.  The memory of the strange encounter stayed with him throughout his long day of chores- they apparently had been saving projects for him while he was gone, how _thoughtful-_ and when he laid down for the night he kind of hoped to see his foul-mouthed alter-ego again.

That night the dreamscape with the frozen fire and the man encased in ice returned.

It took a week, but eventually he managed to inform Xanxus- Harry got snarled at whenever he called the other a delusion, so Harry just gave up and went along with it- about his life up to the point of Quirrell-Mort.  The other snarled, cursed, and sneered, but _listened_ all the same which was more than anyone had ever done for Harry.  Harry found himself kind of wishing that Xanxus was actually real, for all the man’s foul-tempered, unsympathetic commentary.

Then Harry reached the point in the story about fighting Quirrell-Mort.  When he spoke of the way the man burned under his fingers, Xanxus didn’t complain or shy away.  When Harry talked about the acidic, cloying smoke that filled his lungs as the man died, or how fucking _terrified_ Harry had felt facing a man over twenty years his senior who had been in a position of trusted authority over him,  Xanxus just listened with strangely understanding eyes.  Harry had finally raged, pacing back and forth with his arms waving around wildly, as he finally voiced how _angry_ he had felt when he awoke in the Hospital Wing to find that the Headmaster had arrived _just as he fell unconscious._ Harry screamed his throat raw when he told of how _wounded_ he felt when he realized that the people who knew what had happened to him in that chamber brushed the experience off like it was _expected_ of him to do such things.

When Harry was finished, caught up to the present, there were still tears on his cheeks, his throat was nearly unbearably tender, and his hands were fisted at his sides- but he somehow felt _lighter_. 

After a small ice age the silence is finally broken by the gravelly voice that he has grown somewhat used to. “Your Headmaster is a fucking _idiot_ , trash.”

Harry cocked his head inquisitively, turning to face the other- storytelling was easier when not looking into the red-eyed glare of the man he was sharing a dreamscape with, after all. “Why do you say that?”

Xanxus gave him a piercing stare, soul deep and searching.  Harry was afraid to breathe for a long moment, but Xanxus must have found what he was looking for as he finally nodded and continued.  “Storm Flames.”

“What?”

Xanxus rolled his eyes- and Harry secretly hoped that one day he would be able to express so much with such a small expression. “There’s laws against this shit, but you’ve got them, so fuck the laws.  The fire that you talked about that burned that Volde-trash- your Headmaster is wrong, it wasn’t your mother’s fucking love, it was your Storm Flames.” 

Harry opened his mouth to ask questions, but a glare kept him silent as Xanxus continued. “There are seven types of Flames of the Dying Will: Sky, Storm, Rain, Lightning, Sun, Cloud, and Mist.  Their abilities are: Harmonization, Disintegration, Tranquility, Hardening, Activation, Propagation, and Construction, respectively.  There are also Hard flames and Soft Flames- basically two ends of the spectrum.  You said that the Flames were red, right?”

Harry nodded as he sank down to sit in front of Xanxus.  “What I can remember, anyways.  Not really a dark red, but a really bright one- there might have been some gold, though.”

Xanxus nodded-  as much as he could manage, anyways- in acknowledgement.  “There’s a whole bunch of theories about Flame types and shit, but what I’ve seen is that Hard types need challenges to gain battle for control of their Flame, while Soft types usually do better by meditation.  Neither way is better, they’re _your_ fucking Flames, find whichever works for you.  It’s also possible to have a secondary, but it’s fucking rare and it will take a lot of hard fucking work for you to be able to use it consciously.  Most trash don’t work with their secondary- or tertiary- so it’s pretty unheard of to master more than the primary Flames, but it’s not fucking impossible.”

Harry blinked rather stupidly.   “Why should I do anything?  I mean I have my magic-“

“That fucking thought process will get you fucking killed, trash!  Be a fucking man and grow some fucking balls!  Stop letting other fucking people call the shots in your fucking life!”

Harry felt like he should be offended, but something warm unfurled in his chest at the thought of someone thinking that he has the potential to be more than what seems to be implied that he _should_ be.  “You know, I kind of wish that you were real.” He ruminates sadly.

He received a glare in response to his rather maudlin statement. “I’m as real as you, you fucking trash, and since you’re the only fucking entertainment that I’ve got, and I know now that you’ve got Flames, prepare to fucking _entertain me.”_

Harry suddenly felt much less benevolent towards his dream companion.

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A month and a half into the summer hols and Harry really just wanted to _die_.

Well, not really, but Xanxus couldn’t possibly be a delusion because there’s no way that Harry would wish this level of torture upon himself.  Xanxus- for all his foul-mouthed-ness, death threats, and seemingly callous regard for Harry’s survival- was really freaking _smart._ It made him a great tutor, but also Harry’s nightly _terror_. 

They found that if Xanxus concentrated he could make things appear in the dreamscape- such as paper, or pencils, or other things of the like; thankfully no weapons or a magical way out of the ice- and likewise, Harry could do the same.  When they had discovered this two days after the Flame revelations, Harry was kind of excited.   Xanxus had summarily announced- because Harry had found that Xanxus did not ask, ever- that he would be tutoring Harry- “I _n_ _whatever the fuck I feel like, trash!”._

Harry had innocently reasoned to himself that tutoring would mean that Xanxus could be entertained- which would keep him too busy to continually bitch about Harry’s lack of spine-which was a good thing.

Harry had sadly underestimated Xanxus’ exacting standards and varying levels of gleeful sadistic amusement at his expense. 

Also, his companion’s ability to know when Harry was lying was terrifying- the less said about that incident, the better, and Harry would _never again_ lie to the man across from him.

Harry had only asked _why_ the man was encased in ice a single time- the level of fury that his companion had displayed had terrified him- and Harry had no wish to see what would happen to him if Xanxus managed to free himself from his ice cocoon in that type of temper.

Harry felt as if he had learned more in the five weeks of ‘tutoring’ than he had in the previous five years of his education.  Xanxus, naturally, had not confined his tutoring to only academia and was rather patiently teaching Harry how to call on his Flames.   Harry’s currently exercise was to call on them into existence on his hands and hold them for three minutes at a time.

 _{_ “ _You’re learning control, trash, using them all the time defeats the fucking purpose_.” _}_

Xanxus was teaching him a nearly absurd amount of things.  Maths, languages- apparently Xanxus was fluent in a ridiculous _nine_ languages and seemed to think Harry should be perfectly happy to be learning Italian and French in tandem.  Then, even though Xanxus personally hated ushc things, there were the etiquette lessons- Harry still felt like Draco Malfoy-esque ponce during those lessons; though, the one time he told Xanxus that he received a flat, murderous stare and a marathon math session; Harry had learned to keep his thoughts to _himself_ on the matter.  Xanxus was even taking Harry to task on his penmanship and Harry was eternally grateful that Xanxus was trapped in ice when the man threatened to smash his fingers to smithereens every time Harry wrote something other than numbers.   

So when Xanxus asked about the state of Harry’s money one night right after Harry appeared in the dreamscape, Harry had been a bit hopeful about putting off the night’s math lesson for a bit.

“The _fuck_ you mean you don’t get fucking bank statements!?” Xanxus roared straining against the ice as usual.  Only this time Harry noticed that the ice holding his- mentor?- has receded a little.  Not enough for the man to actually move his head freely, but enough to make Harry worry for his continued well-being.

“Does it really matter?  I mean I’m only eleven right now, so-“

“ _Trash_!”

Uh-oh. That was ‘Xanxus’ Death Glare #7.’  The ‘You’re a Fucking Idiot, Trash, Shut Up and Let Me Fucking Tell You Why’ look that Harry’s had gotten so used to over the past few weeks.

Xanxus growled warningly at Harry and leveled him with a serious stare. “Look, trash, that money is fucking important.  _Shut the fuck up!_   Better, now, _as I was saying_.  That is your fucking inheritance- what your fucking family has bled, fought, and died for- you don’t take that fucking shit lightly.  You said that it was a Trust Vault.  Does that mean that there is a Family Vault?  Do you have properties, staff?  Do you have fucking renters who are fucking freeloading?  You need to find this shit the fuck out yourself, don’t wait for some asshole to hand this information to you, trash.  Because this type of information is its own type of fucking power, and if someone wants to fucking ‘guide’ you, this is the kind of fucking information that can make or break you.  Fucking trash.”

Harry stopped, caught flatfooted as he stared at the floor.  That…..made a disturbing amount of sense.  ‘ _Why haven’t I thought about it that way?’_

“Because you don’t want to upset the status quo with your little _friends_ , trash.”

Apparently he had said that out loud.  Artfully ignoring Xanxus’ less-than-flattering  assessment of his friends, Harry replied,  “Well, the only way to find out is to go to Diagon Alley, and that’s in London, and I have no way-“

“ _Trash.”_

Harry jerked his head up to meet Xanxus’ eyes.  “Y-yes?”  A little part of him died at the stutter because Xanxus did _not_ tolerate weakness of any kind.

Xanxus glared but did not comment on Harry’s little slip into weakness.  “Tell the scum you live with that you got a letter for one of your _friends_ and when they ask _how_ just tell them ‘magic’.”  The smirk on the tanned male’s face that should be illegal in Harry’s humble opinion. “We’ll plan this like a Varia job, and you’re not Varia fucking Quality, so you better listen the fuck up……”

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Harry headed out of the house early in the morning a week later, a note left on the kitchen table to explain his absence to his ‘family’.

_{Always assume someone is watching you, trash.  Don’t fucking take stupid-ass risks.}_

Which was why Harry had gotten up at the ungodly hour of four in the morning.

Harry used his Flames to disintegrate the locks- his uncle had been installing a new one a week, it seemed- on his door.  The damage was not as precise as he would have liked, but in the end the door had opened silently, just as planned.  Once he was free of his room he had snuck down to the cupboard, quickly melting through the lock.  It had not taken but a few minutes to gather his prized possessions- his photo album and his wand- which he then quietly ran up to his room, putting the treasures under his secret loosened floorboard.  Harry had quickly retrieved Hedwig from her cage- there was no need for her to be there today- and crept back down the stairs to the kitchen, letting them both out of the back door before launching her into the air and quickly pulling his invisibility cloak over him.

Harry had used his chores the past week to ‘retrieve’ money from Dudley’s room, Aunt Petunia’s purse, and the secret stashes around the house that he _knew_ Dudley raided regularly.

 _{_ “ _But I don’t want to steal!”  Harry had protested.  Stealing was wrong!_

_Xanxus’ response had been rather illuminating for Harry._

_“Fuck that!  Those scum get money to take care of you, I fucking guarantee it!  You’re not stealing from the fucking church plate, use what is available to you, trash!  There is a fucking difference between greed and survival!”}_

Ergo, he had plenty enough to get to London and back again- even a little extra.

It was still fairly early when Harry arrived in London, but the stores were beginning to open. Xanxus had sworn that if Harry entered the bank in Dursley hand-me-downs that he would find a way to flay Harry alive, so Harry had looked up the addresses of several second-hand stores near the Alley’s entrance.

Addresses in hand, it didn’t take long to find the items that he needed at the second-hand store, and he quickly ducked inside a café to change.  Harry smiled brightly at the slightly wary waitress when he came back out, “Lost a bet to my mates, sorry about that.” 

_{“Always have a few back-up scenarios in mind when on an op.  You never know when a single moment will make or fucking break you, so having ready-made answers will keep you relaxed and prevent obvious tells- which can get you fucking killed, trash.”}_

The older- thirties, maybe?- lady smiled kindly at him, “No worries, laddie.  What can I get you?”

It was just past the seventh hour of the morning when he came upon the Leaky Cauldron, cloak thrown over him.  Harry had been expecting to be caught all morning, but yet here he was, waiting unseen near the door of the Leaky Cauldron.  He had actually escaped his room, left the house without getting caught by his family, loaded himself onto the trains, and then successfully changed into his new clothes without being dragged back to Privet Drive.

It was…..exhilarating.  Freeing.  The fragile flame of hope that he carried- that one day he could be free, be the master of his own fate- fanned even brighter by the winds of success.

_{“Better to be unseen.  ‘Course you have a fucking cheat, but still- if they don’t know to look for you chances are they fucking won’t, trash.”}_

Finally, someone came to the pub and Harry managed to slip inside the pub, through the early morning crowd, and into the Alley without being detected.  ‘ _I did it!’_   Harry thought in triumph as he slipped down a side street to remove his cloak, returning it to its previous position underneath his button up shirt.  Harry fussed with the flesh-colored bandage covering his scar for a minute before he removed his glasses- attaching them to his undershirt- and then seguing into the early morning traffic so he could make his way to Gringotts Bank.

_{“These trash apparently know you by your scar and glasses- put a bandage on your scar, take off the glasses, and walk like you have a fucking spine and they’ll look right over the fact that you’re their precious fucking savior.  Fucking simple-minded trash.”}_

As he walked over the threshold of the Bank, Harry couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.

_‘I did this, all by myself.  Well, with Xanxus’s help- but I walked out the door on my own.  I couldn’t have done that a month ago- I’m getting stronger.  Awesome.  Now to get done here and find the information that Xanxus wanted me to find…….’_

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“So, basically, you’ve got a couple of ruined properties that need a fuckton of repairs, a sealed will, a useless-as-fuck but binding mysterious Magical fucking Guardian, a default Heir-ship, a possible secondary Heir-ship, a shit ton of debts to be collected, a national monument that you weren’t fucking compensated for, and mindless fucking trash using your Family’s wartime fucking sacrifices to line their fucking pockets?”

Harry blinked slowly as he processed the statements- he still had to filter out most of Xanxus’ profanity to understand the man- but at least he no longer blushed every time the man said his favorite curse word. “Yeah, basically.”

Xanxus grunted in disapproval. “You need a fucking representative, brat.  Or to melt this fucking ice and let me purge the world of the stupid fucking trash.”

Harry flicked him an exasperated look from where he was seated on the floor, working on yet another set of mathematic worksheets- the bane of his existence. “You can’t kill everyone who annoys you, Xanxus.”

Instead of the expected flippant- “ _Why the fuck not?”-_ response that Harry had expected, there was only silence.  After a few minutes of silence Harry realized that Xanxus had not actually replied, and so he looked up to see the older man studying him consideringly.  “What?”

Xanxus sighed tiredly- and it was such an unnatural sound for the brash, unrepentant man to make that Harry was vaguely horrified- before he began to explain.  “Look, Harry, there comes a time in a man’s life where he has to lay down his own set of rules.  Where he draws lines that are not to be crossed; makes his fucking stand.  I know that you will likely never be as unforgiving as I am, but that isn’t why I bitch at you.  I _bitch_ because you make excuses for the worthless trash around you and it _pisses me the fuck off_.”

Harry furrowed his brow in consternation. “But they’re just scared-“  He tried to explain to his mentor.

“ _Brat that’s exactly what I’m fucking talking about.”_

“Huh?”

Xanxus made a frustrated sound. “It’s _not acceptable_ that they treat you like shit- and don’t deny that they do.  It doesn’t _matter_ that they fear the power that you can wield or that they might not have wanted to take you in.  _None of that fucking matters_.  They’re not mafia, they don’t have the excuse of being a part of a culture founded on violence- they are nice, normal, respectable people and they should fucking _act like it_.  The fact that they take all their perceived issues out on a child left in their care is not only despicable it’s _criminal- and I would fucking know_.  I guarantee that if they lived in Varia territory, they’d be _dead_ for that shit- because the shit that they have done to you would make then a target for my men; violent, bloodthirsty motherfuckers we might be, but _child-abusing, lying shitstains_ we are not- I _fucking hate_ liars.”

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The Dursley family was rather unhappy about the day he’d taken off to go to Diagon Alley, but surprisingly they hadn’t tried to double up his chores or give him too much grief.  They hadn’t even mentioned the damage to his bedroom door, which was pretty obvious to him because the locks didn’t actually work anymore, but he wasn’t going to complain.  Midnight kitchen runs were _epic._   Naturally, Xanxus made him plan them like Varia missions, complete with objectives like letting Hedwig out without getting caught; or sneaking into his Uncle’s study to look over important documents.

Still _, food-_ that was the important part.

Harry didn’t realize the changes that he’d undergone since Xanxus had taken up residence in his dreamscape.  The man’s abrasive personality should have constantly set Harry’s temper off, but there was something different about Xanxus’ brand of caustic that made him want to do better instead of _worse_. 

There was also something about the very, very, very rare glint of approval that flickered through Xanxus’ eyes when Harry did something that he swore he couldn’t that made Harry want to be that much better.

So, nowadays, when his Aunt Petunia sniped about his mother or Uncle Vernon made comments about how much he cost them, Harry tuned them out, because _he honestly no longer needed their approval_.  It was a novel experience, because he didn’t remember even starting to _like_ Xanxus but somehow the man’s opinion had become more important than anyone else.

Which was fucking _scary_ , when Harry thought about it, because the dreams hadn’t started until _after_ he had gotten home from Hogwarts, so did that mean that they’d stop when he went back?

When, a few weeks after his Diagon excursion, his aunt told him of the upcoming visit from his uncle’s important clients- “ _They’ll arrive tomorrow evening, boy.”-_ and something inside of him whispered _trouble_ , Harry didn’t bother waiting to fall asleep to tell Xanxus before going into mission planning mode.

That night, Xanxus had merely nodded in approval- Harry was a bit apprehensive to note that the ice receded a little more every night- and helped him flesh out his plan.

So, early in the afternoon the next day, while his aunt fussed around in the kitchen- she had told him to go clean, which he had, he just hadn’t gone back to get further instructions- and before his uncle returned home from work, Harry slipped on his cloak and slithered out the backdoor.  Harry did leave a note on the hall chest that informed them that he would return the following day, most likely in the afternoon.

One of the things that Harry had found out on his previous trip to the Alley was that there was an optometrist’s office not far from the Leaky Cauldron.  While NHS would pay for new glasses, there were private practices scattered around London where Harry could pay out-of-pocket to get new glasses without needing his aunt or uncle’s approval.  Harry had also learned the value of a galleon to a pound- Xanxus had forced him to do monetary conversions until his brains _oozed_ out of his ears- and knew that while he was only middle-class by modern, nonmagical standards, he was well off by magical ones.

Ergo, he could shop in some second hand stores to get him some- “- _decent fucking clothes you’re not destitute, brat”-_ and get a couple pairs of glasses, while affording to stay at one of the hostels without going over his self-imposed budget. 

That had been an eye opener.

There were hostels in London for teens and young adults that let them stay with no questions asked as long as they could pay.  The accommodations weren’t fancy or anything, but they were clean and the proprietors wouldn’t call the law about a teenager being by themselves.  Better yet, no one knew that he was Harry Potter in them, so no one would recognize him and cause him headaches.

So, after arriving in London and checking into a hostel before using a corner phone booth to make an appointment at the optometrist, Harry headed back to the Alley to do some Xanxus-inspired banking.

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Grapplehook was confused by the young human before him.

When the boy had come in less than a month ago, he had obviously had no idea how to handle money, barter, or how to comport himself when dealing with a race of warriors.

The young man- and Harry Potter was no longer a mere _boy-_ before him today was much different.  The young man didn’t suddenly possess a warrior’s subtle grace or wield a politician’s silver tongue, but there was a keenness in his eyes that only those who truly appreciated that their path must be forged by their own power possessed.

As he exchanged cordial parting nods with the young man, Grapplehook idly wondered if the sheep of the wizarding public knew that their savior was an actual lion and not a domesticated housecat.

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Xanxus didn’t remember ever deciding to like the spineless wimp.

When the brat had first showed up he’d wanted to rip the whiny little bitch apart.  But, he also didn’t know how long he’d been frozen and he was _excruciatingly_ bored.  He’d known that time had passed, but before the brat showed up he’d been encased in darkness, with only the barest flickers of flames at the edges of his perception.  He’d known that the brat was real the moment the rag-wearing shit has appeared, and it pissed him off that the stupid trash took forever to figure that Xanxus wasn’t a stupid fucking delusion.

Yet, over the last few months, with the brat being the only time his world had light, he’d grown a little fond of the trash.  He didn’t want to suddenly cuddle the little bastard, but he had to acknowledge the brat’s tenacity.  The sad part was the brat didn’t even see his own potential.

Xanxus blamed the brat’s so called _family._

Xanxus swore to kill the Dursley’s _himself_ if he ever managed to break free of the Zero Point Breakthrough ice that he knew his real body was still encased inside.  He hadn’t been lying when he had blown up at the brat a few weeks ago- if Xanxus had known of civilians on Varia territory treating a child like that, they’d be dead.  Another Famiglia’s issues were one thing- like those fucking Estraneo trash- but well-off civilians using a brat they were being paid to take care of as slave labor with a side of unlawful imprisonment?

Never mind, he’d sic Lussuria on their asses.  The Varia Sun was fiercely protective of brats, and he was a creative vindictive asshole when he was in a snit.  Xanxus could just watch, preferably with some wine.

(Xanxus diligently ignored the little voice in the back of his head that said that he’d never see his pack again.)

Oh, that was one thing he hadn’t told the brat yet.  The instincts that came with the Flames.  The personality traits that intensified as one progressed in training their Flame.  Traits that needed to be judiciously controlled lest they take over and define a person’s entire existence, ultimately limiting themselves and their abilities. 

Ah, well, Xanxus would let the little shit grow a little before springing it on him.

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Harry hadn’t truly appreciated just how _big_ the world was until he met Xanxus.  Intellectually he had known that there were a lot of people and places in the world as a whole, but until he’d met the other man Harry hadn’t truly realized- on a personal level- that there were so many other personalities, cultures, and belief systems that existed alongside his own version of reality.

Walking down the streets of London towards the optometrist’s office, Harry pondered the strange creature that had visited him the previous night.  Apparently the House Elf- Dobby- had been withholding his mail in an attempt to get Harry to stay away from ‘terrible plots’ that were to occur at Hogwarts this upcoming year.

_‘How, exactly, is that supposed to be any different from last year?’_

Maybe in another life, without the influence of Xanxus, Harry would have argued that he _had_ to go back because Hogwarts was his escape from the Dursley house.  Instead, Harry had listened, nodded along, and then sweet talked his mail away from the little being.  Once Dobby had departed Harry had sent short replies explaining that there had been a mix-up with Hedwig- who had shown up at his window just as he was wondering how he was going to send his letters; he fucking loved that owl- and that he was sorry for making his friends worry.  Harry would write them both later and explain about his odd encounter with the House Elf Dobby, but he had wanted to make sure they knew he had not been ignoring them.

‘ _Well, shit_.’  Harry thought bemusedly as he opened the door to the optometrist’s office. _‘Now I’m sounding like Xanxus inside my own head._ ’

Harry’s appointment went smoothly.  Though he had been disappointed to learn that he apparently had bad enough eye sight that he didn’t qualify for contacts just yet.  He still got two pairs of glasses- one for Quidditch and one for everyday wear, as Xanxus had suggested- and was told that they’d be sent to his address in a week.

Next came clothes shopping. Harry knew that- second hand or not- if he skimped on his shopping and didn’t get what Xanxus told him to get there would be hell to pay.  And the man would _know_ , because Harry’s mentor was _ridiculous_ like that.  So, despite being very unenthused about shopping for clothing, Harry ended up with button up shirts, undershirts, slacks, jeans, some exercise clothes, a couple pairs of shoes, and underthings, just as Xanxus had ordered.

Thankfully, while he had been in the Alley yesterday he had gone back to the trunk store.  When he had been there with Hagrid he’d been overwhelmed and dazzled, but this time Harry had actually looked around and sampled his options.

_{“Never judge a book by its cover, shitty brat.  Simple and functional usually beats extravagant and complicated- and just because something is used doesn’t make it useless, while being new doesn’t make something automatically better.”}_

So, Harry had found a second hand trunk that had been rigged to shrink and expand with a verbal command.  It didn’t shrink down to the size of a matchbox- it shrunk down to the size of an average book- but it did not need a wand to shrink down to a smaller size, either.  It didn’t have a house inside it, but it did have a fair amount of room and an organization charm.  Basically, it was an extended wardrobe on one side, with a couple bookshelves and deceptively small-looking cubby holes on the other side, with room at the back for his broom, cauldron and miscellaneous supplies.  Full sized he could step inside and move around a little, so it was truly a steal.

That was entirely how he was getting all his newly acquired crap back to Number 4.

He was in luck when he returned Privet Drive, as the Dursley’s were out.(Aunt Petunia had even left him a note informing him of what time they planned on being home, even though he did have to dig the spare key out from under the rose bush to get into the house.  Not one to waste an opportunity, Harry quickly made his way to the cupboard and hastily grabbed all the important things out of his original trunk- like his books, broom, quills, etc.- and tossed them into his new trunk before shoving the old one back into the cupboard and high tailing it up the stairs.

Once safely ensconced in his room he enlarged his trunk and neatly organized his things, leaving out everything he would need to complete his homework.  Grimly pulling out his first set of books and starting on his summer homework, Harry settled in for the long haul.

He just knew Xanxus was going to make him redo the assignments several times.  The man was a sadistic perfectionist like that.

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Harry _hated_ being right sometimes.

“Don’t regurgitate the fucking textbook, shitty brat.  Summarize.  And clean up your fucking handwriting before I find a way out of this fucking ice and smash your useless fucking fingers!”

That was his History of Magic essay.

“Yes, that’s a nice pile of steaming _shit_ , but how about you tell me why the fucking valerian root interacts with the moonstone in the fifth fucking stage instead of just telling me that it does.”

That was his Potion’s essay.

“Who the _fuck_ is this Gamp trash?  Fuck that noise.”

That was Transfiguration’s homework.

“Animation charms.  Make me a tap dancing shark, shitty brat.  I’ll give you a fucking address.”

That was Charms.

“The stars are fucking important, shitty brat.  Seriously.”

That was Astronomy.

Even still, Xanxus was some kind of _genius_ , because Harry finished his homework in a week, even with all of Xanxus’ nitpicking.  Even more his homework was actually presentable, Harry was proud of his work. 

During the course of finishing up his assignments Harry had received his birthday presents- they had been a pleasant surprise. Accompanying the presents from the Weasley family was a letter from Ron telling him about how he’d been ready to fly his dad’s highly illegal car to come bust him out because he hadn’t heard from Harry all summer.  The letter had included an invite to the Weasley home for the final two weeks of summer, and Harry had leapt at the opportunity like a starving dog, spending the next few letters hammering out the details.  Eventually, it had been arranged that he would meet the Weasley family at the Leaky Cauldron the day after the Hogwarts letters had gone out- he’d managed to convince Ron that his relatives would take him to London, as they were headed that way anyways and it was just _happy coincidence_ that the Hogwarts Letters had come out that day- and stay with them for the remainder of the summer.

Hogwarts had a flexible end of term, usually the second week of June, but sometimes as late as nearly the end of June, depending on the OWL and NEWT testing schedules, which affected all the other year’s end of year tests.  This past year had let out fairly early, being the first week of June, so it had been a long summer.

It was with the happy thought of not having to return until the following June that Harry slipped out of his relative’s house for the last time that summer and once again made his own way to London.

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“Ron!” Harry called out excitedly to his friend as he dragged his (old) trunk towards the milling group of red-heads.

“Harry!” His red-haired buddy called out brightly, ducking around random body parts to get to his best friend and wrap him in a manly ‘bro hug’.  “It’s good to see you mate!”

“Yes, simply smashing-“

“-spiffing, really-“

“-to see you again-“

“-young master Potter!” The twins greeted Harry from over Ron’s shoulders, blue eyes twinkling with humor as they grinned manically in a way that was far less intimidating after a summer spent with only Xanxus for company.

“Hey Fred, George.” Harry greeted back, taking in the multiplication their freckles had seemed to have experienced over the summer.

Then there was the reintroduction of the Weasley matron, a set of rules he had no intention of following, and their shopping trip began.

Some blonde ponce was doing a book signing at the bookstore, so there were about eight million people at _Flourish and Blotts_.  Harry decided that instead of fighting the crowd, he’d browse the books near the fringe of the crowd until he could slip in and get what he needed.  Harry glanced down at his book list.  ‘ _Okay, Defense Against the Dark Arts- seven books?  Fucking really?’_

“Hey, Ron?” Harry said to his friend, who was browsing beside him.  They were currently in the history section and Harry was absently picking up books that his intuition seemed to nudge him about.  At least ‘intuition’ was what Xanxus had called his ‘sixth sense’ when Harry had explained it to the man. Xanxus had also told him to _follow it_ and if he had to choose between his intuition and logic, to go with his intuition every time.

“Yeah mate?”

“You want to go halvsies with me for DADA books?”

“You can afford them all.”  Ron grumbled, giving Harry a guarded look.

There was a time that Harry wouldn’t have thought about the darker side of people, but now he could see the flash of jealously in his friend’s eyes.  Xanxus had told him, bluntly, that this was going to be an ongoing issue between the two unless Harry absolutely rejected his family’s legacy.  Something which Xanxus would find a way to beat the shit out of him for, so Harry decided to try his hand at diplomacy.  “Yeah, and I know- you can too.  But I just think it’d be stupid for each of us to buy seven books when we share both the class and the dorm.”

Ron’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”

Harry grinned brightly at his mate. “Awesome!  I’ll get books two, four, and six.  You get books one, three, and five, and we’ll split number seven?”

“Sounds good!”

After that there wasn’t a whole lot of excitement, as Harry had been practicing going incognito for almost two months now, so he managed to stay away from the idiot who was doing the book signing.  An impressive feat considering some idiot mentioned to the ponce doing the signing that ‘Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived’ was in the store and everyone started looking around for him.

 _‘Seriously?  How dumb are these people?’_   Harry grumbled to himself as he pushed through the throng of people.  _‘My scar faded and I got square rimmed glasses and they couldn’t find me?’_   Not that he was complaining, but still, maybe Xanxus wasn’t completely wrong about them being _mindless fucking sheep_.

There was an altercation between Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy, in which Mr. Malfoy got punched in the face, which was pretty awesome. Other than that, however, they managed to complete their shopping and head back to the Burrow, which was the name of the Weasley family home.

“It’s not much, but it’s home.” Ron said as Harry gazed around the cheery, lopsided room with bewitched knitting needles, a magic clock, and a permeating sense of _warmth_ in wonderment.

“It’s perfect.” Harry breathed out happily, green eyes alight with pleasure as he took in the surroundings.

Harry didn’t want to start a fight with his friend, so he waited until Ron went to take his turn in the bathroom to pull his new trunk and quickly organize his things.  Harry hastily repacked it into the standard trunk along with various other items to make it seem like all he had was the original.

 _‘Not only do I not want to argue with Ron about money.’  Harry_ thought as he quickly went about repacking his clothes, keeping an ear out for Ron’s return. ‘ _I don’t want everyone all up in my business about when I got it.  Man, Xanxus’ paranoia is starting to really rub off on me.  Prat.’_

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Un-fucking-believable.

They couldn’t get through the barrier.

It had to be that demented House Elf’s fault.

The rest of the Weasley family had gone ahead, as the entire group was running behind thanks to multiple trips back to the house on top of an already late start.  Everyone had gone through just fine, but then Harry and Ron had smashed into the barrier.

It was now past eleven and the Express had already left.

“We’ll take my dad’s car!” Ron was saying beside him, “Mum and dad apparently can’t get back through, so we’ll just take the car to school.”

“Ron.” Harry said slowly, trying to talk his friend down for the fourth time since this had all started.  “If they can’t get back through, someone will come to check the barrier.  There is no need for us to take the car.  Your dad will need to come get it at some point anyways.  We cannot fly a car from London to the Scottish Highlands, even if it can turn invisible.”

“Harry we have to!  How else are we supposed to get to school!?” Ron was nearly in hysterics, a wild glint in his eyes that did not bode well for them- or Harry’s rational arguments.

“Ron.” Harry tried again, putting all of his newly discovered diplomatic skills towards reasoning with his friend. “Someone will figure things out.  If an hour passes and no one comes, we’ll make our way to the Leaky and Floo your house and let your parents sort it out.”

Ron glared at his friend. “We can’t depend on the adults!  Remember who had to save the Stone last year?  We did!”

Harry nodded agreeably an clutched the handle of his original trunk tighter. “Yes, but that was _important_.  This is simple.  No need for heroics.”

The red head gave Harry a disgusted look as he pushed up from the bench that they were seated on. “Well, if you want to be a bloody chicken and stay here, be my guest.  But I am going to _fix this_.  By _myself_ if you’re too cowardly.”

Harry gawked at his friend.  ‘ _Is this the same guy I just spent two weeks with?  Has Ron always been like this?’_   “Ron-” Harry nearly begged, an edge of panic seeping into his voice as his friend began to drag his trunk towards the lot. “-there’s no need t-“

“Fine!  Harry bloody Potter is a bloody _chicken_!  I guess if there’s no fame involved you just don’t want to risk your _precious_ reputation, huh?”  The red-haired boy was suddenly towering over the still-seated Harry, an ugly sneer painted on his face as he gazed contemptuously down at the younger boy.

Harry, for his part, was in shock.  His green eyes were wide behind his glasses, the perfected prescription allowing him to see the hostile lines and bitter edge to his friend’s mouth.  There was a time, not so long ago, that Harry would have done _anything_ to keep this boy as his friend.  To keep the family that the boy brought with him, the wonderful warmth and life that Harry had sampled the past few weeks.

That Harry would have gone along with an insane plan to use a flying car to get to a school in Scotland from London without much thought except for, ‘ _I don’t want to lose him.’_

This Harry, however, had shared his dreamscape with a mafia assassin for almost three months.

 _{_ “ _Look, Harry, there comes a time in a man’s life where he has to lay down his own set of rules.  Where he draws lines that are not to be crossed; makes his fucking stand.  I know that you will likely never be as unforgiving as I am, but that isn’t why I bitch at you.  I bitch because you make excuses for the worthless trash around you and it pisses me the fuck off.”}_

Harry stubbornly set his jaw, his spine stiffened, and he met Ron’s glare head-on.  “No, Ron.  If you want to take a flying car to Scotland, that’s fine.  But I have my plan……and tha-that’s what I’m going to stick with.”  He ignored the ache that opened up in his chest as the last vestiges of warmth faded from Ron’s face, he didn’t move as the other boy cursed and snarled and walked away, he just felt numb.

 _Empty_.

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Harry checked the time and sighed, moving over to an out of the way corner before opening Hedwig’s cage and scribbling a note to Professor McGonagall. “Fly fast, okay girl?”  He murmured wetly as she nibbled at his fingers affectionately and used his arm to launch herself into the sky.  Harry pushed himself as far back into his little hidey hole as he could before opening his trunk, retrieving his new one, unshrinking it, tossing the cage and his old trunk inside, and then reshrinking the new one. 

 _‘This thing is totally worth what I paid for it.’_   He thought, trying- and failing- to cheer himself up.  ‘ _I added a line that told her that Ron decided to make his own way, hopefully she will figure it out without Mr. Weasley getting into trouble.’_

Harry made his way towards the Tube, grabbing a packaged lunch to eat along the way as he made his way back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

“Hey Tom.” He called to the aged bartender as he walked into the bar. “I couldn’t get through the Platform, do you know what I should do?  I sent a note to Professor McGonagall that I was headed here.”

Tom gave him a gummy smile. “That’s unfortunate, lad!  You just wait here in one of the waitin’ upstairs rooms, I’m sure the Professor will be along shortly.  Do you need lunch, laddie?”

Harry shook his head, but managed a smile for the helpful man, despite feeling as if his insides were hollow.  “No, I ate already, thank you.  Sorry for the trouble.”

“None at all, laddie, none at all!  The waitin’ room is just up those stairs, third door on your left!  Just call for Mippy if you be needing anything, you hear?”

“Thanks Tom.”

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It was just after four- not long after a snack had been presented to Harry by the insistently motherly Mippy- that Professor McGonagall came to collect him.  “Mr. Potter?” The stern-eyed witch called out from beyond the open doorway.

Harry straightened himself and smiled welcomingly at his Head of House. “Here Professor.  Sorry for the trouble.”

She gave him a barely-there smile. “Not at all, Mr. Potter.  The Ministry has had quite the spot of trouble with the Barrier today.  They still don’t know why it stopped working, but I am glad you found a _sensible_ plan in the face of crisis.”

“I take it Ron’s plan ended up a bit not good?”  Harry asked her with a wince.

She nodded sharply. “ _Indeed_ , Mr. Potter.  Shall we?”

“Yes, Professor.”

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“So let me get this straight.  This fucking trash takes a flying fucking car in broad fucking daylight for a joyride, gets caught, crashes into a murderous fucking tree, breaks his main weapon, and then gets mad at _you_ for fucking having a fucking brain?”

Harry nodded tiredly from his position on the floor.  Harry had his legs drawn up against his chest and his arms pillowing his head.  For once he was free of tutoring materials as Xanxus stared at him in dumbfounded bemusement. “Yeah.  He crashed into the Whomping Willow and the car ended up in the Forbidden Forrest.  His trunk fell open, and one of the things that fell out of it was his wand.  His dad is facing an inquiry at work about the car, and all he can do is moan loudly about how I was too ‘chicken’ to go with him.  After all the points I lost last year, everyone is pretty divided about it.  He’s really angry that I didn’t go with him, says that I betrayed him.”  Harry trailed off listlessly.

“Bullshit.”  Xanxus snarled, the ice having receded enough that he could freely move his head. “That fucking trash betrayed _you_.”

“I don’t know, I mean, even _Hermione_ said that I should have tried harder to get him to listen or gone with him-and-and- maybe I sh-“

“ _Stop.  Right.  Fucking **.  Now**_.”   Xanxus breathed in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, trying to tamp down on his wrath so he could talk this through with the shitty brat without shattering him.  Xanxus was fucking proud of the kid for standing his ground against his ‘friend’.  The brat that he’d first met would never have had the balls to do it, but his kid had pulled through.

“Look, brat.  I know that you don’t see it yet, but you’re gonna be badass, no matter what path you walk.  The thing is, you can’t surround yourself with people who constantly change their fucking mind about you.  Children are cruel, vicious little fuckers, especially at this age- they’re starting to come into their own, to lay the foundations of who they’re gonna fucking be.  They’re either with you or they’re not.  Don’t give your loyalty to people who only want you if you form yourself to who or what they think you should fucking be, it will only make you miserable.”

“But, I-I mean-“

“ _Hadrian_.”

Harry’s head snapped up to look at Xanxus in confusion. “Huh?”

Xanxus levelled him an unimpressed look. “You’re from an old family line in a back-ass-wards society, if you’re not named for that Roman fucker, I’ll eat my Flames.”

“They’d probably taste as bitter as your words.  Give you heartburn, you prat.”  Harry replied sarcastically, his lips breaking into a reluctant, halfhearted grin.

Xanxus gave a grin, which was more like a baring of his teeth, but close enough. “See.  That’s you.  If you can’t be that person around your little ‘friends’ than you need to cut them loose.  ‘Cause someday your back is going to be to the fucking wall and you’re gonna have the whole fucking world pressing down on you, and you can’t afford to have wishy washy, fair weathered assholes around you when that happens.  They’re young enough, they might grow out of it, but you’re different, brat.  As much as you want to be, _you’re not like them_.  You were never allowed to be an actual child.  You were raised in hell after your parents died and then you came face to face with the disembodied fucking spirit of their murderer.  _Your life isn’t in any way business-as-usual_ and I’m warning you right now, shitty brat, to choose the people you associate with wisely ‘cause they can make you or fucking break you.”

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	2. Chapter 2

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** Chapter Two **

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Harry _really_ hated his life at the moment.

School had been in session all of two weeks and he was already sick of it.

Gryffindor had won the cup- from last minute points the Headmaster had awarded during the Leaving Feast- at the end of the previous school year, but none of his Housemates had forgotten all the points that he had lost them throughout the year.  So with Ron going around complaining about Harry- especially since the red-head made sure to emphasize the fact that Harry had spent the first of the summer ‘ignoring’ him and then had spent the two weeks before school with the Weasleys immediately before the misadventure with the flying car- it was making House life uncomfortable. 

As far as making friends outside of Gryffindor, the other houses had not forgotten that he had been awarded that mystifying amounts of points for dubious reasons at the Leaving Feast, so they weren’t exactly being overly friendly either.  The rumors of Harry’s escapades in the Third Floor Corridor growing more and more outlandish by the day as the gossip made the rounds.  The truly creative blabbermouths adding in embellishments of Dark Curses and fame hungry orphans to the tragic tale of poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell.

Hermione, while being cross at Ron for his misadventure, was more than a _little_ miffed at Harry’s lack of communication over the summer.  Oh, he’d explained- again- that there had been issues with his mail thanks to that House Elf and how he thought it was linked to the Barrier being tampered with, but that just made her _more_ unbearable about the whole situation.

“Harry.”  She’d huff rather condescendingly at him whenever he would plead his case to her. “If it was _your_ fault that the Barrier was closed, than you had a _responsibility_ to _help_ Ron.  Instead you left him to go off _by himself_ and get in trouble _alone_!  That’s not what friends do!  You can’t always blame _others_ for your own shortcomings!”  Then she’d twirl around and stalk off towards their next class or to the library.

_‘But I tried to get him to come with me!’_ Harry wanted to scream at her back, tears stinging his eyes as he watched her walk away from him.  ‘ _I tried to get him to see reason and he left me by myself!  Why are you blaming me?!’_

So, it was with this level of frustrated anger that he found himself seated next to a random person in the back of the DADA classroom.  Seeing as how Ron was not speaking to Harry the young Potter had tried to give Ron the DADA books he was missing- because they had been planning on sharing- but that had just made the red-head even angrier.  Therefore Ron was sharing with the twins and Harry had half the books he needed.  Harry honestly hadn’t been paying attention to the goings on of the classroom at all, lost deep inside his own maudlin thoughts about the widening gulf between him and his cherished friends, and Xanxus had been curiously silent on the issue during their nightly sessions.

_{“This is one of those moments, shitty brat, where you have to decide your own way.  I can give you my version of advice, but in the end the fucking decision is yours and yours alone because you have to fucking live with the consequences.  No try again or start overs, there’s only one way this fucking train moves, shitty brat.}_

_Professor_ Lockhart- _dangerous fake_ his intuition thrummed in warning- pranced into the class with his usual flair, and Harry tuned in long enough to call out when his name came up for roll call and then had proceeded to ignore the outrageously flamboyant blond man.  Ten minutes or so into the class period, Harry gave up any pretense of paying attention.  He propped his elbows on his desk even going as far as to remove his glasses- tucking them neatly against his undershirt- and then leaning his head forward onto his open palms letting his hair shadow his face as he closed his eyes.  He entered a half-lucid zen-like state and allowed his thoughts to just sort of drift.

It was nice, _calming_.  The tenseness of his shoulders slowly lessened and for the first time in nearly half a month Harry felt some measure of peace during his waking hours.

Which was why he was so surprised- and aggravated- when his neighbor nudged his ankle under the table.

Snapping his head up to glare at the person who destroyed his unexpectedly tranquil state, he met the amused dark gaze of one of his Slytherin classmates.  His classmate proceeded to flick a glance towards the front of the room, cluing Harry as to why the other had disturbed him.

Shaking his head to clear it, he slipped his glasses back on. “Yes, Professor?”  He said wearily.

“Ah, Harry, my dear boy, it’s good to have you back with us!” The blonde ponce had the nerve to _beam_ at Harry, as if the prat was simply _delighted_ that Harry was finally paying him attention. “I know it’s tough being a celebrity, but maybe I could give you some tips on time management?  It’s important to answer your fans and connect with the public, but not at the cost of your own health, dear boy.  Why I remember this one time I…..”

Harry leveled the stupid, oblivious man with an entirely deadpan stare as the idiot continued to babble.  But the damage had already been done and Harry could see Ron’s steadily darkening countenance, Hermione’s increasingly disapproving glances, and his classmate’s not-so-hushed, cruel sniggers.

For a long moment Harry was confused at what he should be feeling.  These were the people he had wanted so desperately to accept him not so very long ago.  The ones that he had faced death for the previous year- because if Voldemort _had_ come back the man would have _killed_ most of them and _enslaved_ the rest.  It was why Harry had cared about the Stone at all, why he’d tried so hard to unravel the mystery and protect it, because he’d wanted to protect _them._ Truthfully Harry had felt as if he _owed_ them for being the ones who had rescued him from the Dursleys and brought him into this magical world and gave him a place to _belong_.

But now……

Now………….

_‘Fuck this noise.’_ Harry finally decided, as his inner world _shifted_ and _shattered_ , before it reformed and coalesced into something _different_ but _better_ as so many things fell into place as he finally _decided_ where he wanted to go from here.  Harry leaned back in his seat and leveled his best Xanxus-inspired glare over the idiots who were not-so-subtly stealing glances at him n between waves of sniggers.  ‘ _Fuck the fucking_ shit _out this noise.’_

Lost in his personal moment of decisiveness, he didn’t realize that he had whispered the words, just loud enough for his neighbor to hear them.

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Xanxus could tell that something was different about the shitty brat the moment _before_ he appeared in their dreamscape.  So, he really was not surprised when the shitty brat didn’t even greet him like a human fucking being and went straight into his rant.

When it was over and the shitty brat disappeared from the dreamscape to start his waking day and the plan that they had hammered out, Xanxus was left feeling just _tad_ bit smug about the whole thing.

_‘Brat’s one of mine now, you shitty fucking pieces of trash.’_

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Harry didn’t even stop to greet Xanxus when he fell asleep that night.  He planted himself in front of the man- the only person that he could remember who had ever looked out for him- with his fists clenched determinedly at his sides, his green eyes full of righteous tenacity, and his white teeth bared in a nearly feral snarl as he _roared_. “Fuck this noise.  Fuck this motherfucking noise.”  He stared straight at the man who had come to be most of his world over the past few months. “I’m done, Xanxus.  Fucking _done_.  I want _out_ \- no more Dursleys, no more wizards, no more boy- _fucking_ -hero.  How do I _make_ that shit happen?”  Harry was panting by the end, body taut as he leaned forward towards the man encased in ice, waiting to see how just how far his mentor would willingly go to help him be _free._

Xanxus grinned, still more of a feral baring of the teeth, but it suited the situation just fine. “It’s not going to be fucking _easy_ , and there will be _no going back_ , shitty brat.  This is a fucking _one way trip_.”

Harry’s glare sharpened, eyes an emerald blaze behind his glasses, as his muscles strained from his whole body radiating absolute belligerence.  The words came out whisper soft but no less resolved as he asked.  “What _exactly_ do I have to _fucking go back to?”_

Xanxus’ grin widened, becoming savage and ferocious and _deadly._ “Alright.  Don’t come fucking crying to be when it get fucking _tough_ , ‘cause I fucking _warned_ you, shitty brat.  This is how we’re going to fucking do this, so listen the fuck up, fucking shitty brat……”

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It was Halloween- the day that Voldemort had descended upon the Potter Family’s little slice of heaven and ripped Harry’s parents away from him. 

_‘Funny how it doesn’t seem like anyone fucking remembers that part.’_   Harry thought sardonically as he walked through the mostly desserted halls of the castle.  ‘ _Also, I really need to quit picking up Xanxus’ bad language.  I’m gonna slip and say something like that in class one of these days.’_

The past few months had wrought changes in little Harry Potter, but not many people had noticed.

_{“If your fucking Headmaster is personally invested in where the fuck you spend your summers, and he has a fuckton of official titles, chances are he is the one pulling the fucking strings.  Precocious shitty brat you might be, but you should never have made it to that shitty mirror in my mind.  The protection he put on the fucking thing would have held against the man trying to get the Stone, admittedly, but you and the trash should have never made it that far.  So we’ve got to keep you under his fucking radar, shitty brat.”}_

So, Xanxus- whose arms were now free as the ice seemed to be melting faster- had coached him on body language for nearly a week before the man had let him do anything else.

_{“Information is power.  That fucking Prophet shit might be trash, but even shit like that fucking rag can be a good source of information as long as you read it fucking sideways._ ” _}_

By and large, Harry portrayed himself as a downtrodden boy who barely studied, was suffering from the distance placed between him and the rest of the school, and only lived for Quidditch.  Because no matter how estranged he might be from his House they still wanted him as their prodigy little Seeker.  Of course the team- and the House- acted as if they were the ones doing _him_ a favor by letting him play, so Harry made sure to play along.

Because that was _exactly_ what he and Xanxus wanted people to think.  That he was desperate for their approval.

_{“If you need to know something, ask the fucking help.  They’re overlooked, but they know everything.  Also, you said that this shitty fucking school of yours has moving, talking portraits?  That means that they can see, hear, and most importantly, fucking talk.  Better to think that everything is after your business and come out on top, rather than fuck up by ignoring obvious sources.”}_

Harry had found out that there was quite the complement of House Elves at Hogwarts.  Once he’d shared his tale about the rogue House Elf that had assaulted him over the holidays, the helpful little beings had been positively tripping over themselves to help ‘poor young sir’.

That was how Harry had learned that the library had an archive section for periodicals.  It had been separated from the main library ages ago, but it was still there.

So, Harry had gone to this mystical archive section of the library and-staying true to his persona- checked out back editions of the Daily Prophet, ostensibly to pour over the sports sections.  This fiction allowed people see what they _wanted_ to see as he used Xanxus’ training to read the real articles from the corner of his eye.  At night he’d make the newspaper ‘appear’ in his dreamscape, but it could only hold what information that he remembered because it had been created by his mind.  He and Xanxus would go over the information with a metaphorical fine-toothed comb, trying to separate the useful information from the speculative trash.

The exercise was doing _wonders_ for his memory, at least.

The elves had also told him about the wonderful ‘Come and Go’ room, which was apparently the room for lost shit.  Being as the rest of the castle was busy with the Halloween Feast, it meant that it was the perfect time for him to explore the intriguing sounding room.

_‘Alright, tapestry with the trolls…tapestry with the tro-ah, there we are.  Now, pace back and forth three times with the thought of what you want firmly in mind.  Uhmm….I want to find the place where things are kept hidden?  Yeah, let’s go with that…….here goes nothing…..’_

So, with that thought firmly in mind, Harry paced back in forth in front of the wall, feeling more than a little like an idiot.  ‘ _If this doesn’t work, Xanxus will never let me live this down.’_  He thought rather sourly.

Fortunately, an ornate door appeared after his third pass and Harry hurried inside.  “Uhm, I don’t suppose that you could lock the door?”  He asked out loud to the room at large, feeling more than just a smidge startled when the door was immediately barricaded.  “Oh, well, alright then.  Thanks, uh, room.”

Now that he felt secure in the knowledge that wasn’t leaving his back open to an attack, Harry took a moment to appreciate the sheer amount of _junk_ that was surrounding him.  ‘ _Wizards and witches are wasteful prats’_ , he mused idly as he picked a junk trail to follow at random.  Apparently, the House Elves had been kind enough to leave trails, but not kind enough to _sort_ the crap.  ‘ _Perfect application of wizarding logic, really.  Oh, we have organizing charms?  Let’s make things that don’t synthesize with them and then just toss shit around randomly and sweep it all into a pile.  We’ll just banish it later, and then complain when we don’t have a fucking broom that will sweep the fucking floor by itself.’_

Harry stopped for a moment at a juncture in the trails, as he processed that though.  ‘ _I’m really turning into a mini-Xanxus, I need more friends.  Too bad I’m surrounded by tra-dammit all!’_

With the happy thought that, _yes, he was becoming Xanxus 2.0_ , Harry stormed down a random path in an attempt to get away from his own thoughts.  Here and there his intuition murmured warnings or admonishments, but nothing overly concerning jumped out at him.

It was about a half-hour into his jouney thought the Room of Junk- he had gotten a wind-up watch over the summer- when suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks- nearly tripping over his own feet and smashing his face into the floor- when he felt his intuition unexpectedly **scream**.    _Dangerdangerdangerdestroyitdestroyitdanger_ \- his intuition screeched at him, loudly enough that it made his chest ache.  Absently bringing a hand up to rub at his chest in an effort to soothe the ache- it felt like a strange mix between indigestion, heartburn, and being kicked in the sternum- Harry clutched his wand in his other hand and warily made his way towards what the hell ever it was that made his intuition go nuts.

He picked his way over some half-rotten books, toed some bronze junk out of the way, and warily approached an ugly bust with a plain looking box in front of it.

He felt something slimy trying to worm its way into his thoughts as he stared at the box, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying because his intuition was positively _shrieking_ at him.

_{“If you have to choose between your logic- what your head or someone’s else’s fucking head says- or your intuition, always fucking trust your intuition, shitty brat_.” _}_

With Xanxus’ words firmly in mind Harry called his Flames in the physical world for the first time since that summer.  Harry didn’t even try to control them as he directed them towards the box and applied his all of his will to _disintegrating_ whatever his Flames touched into nothingness.

It took a few minutes, and Harry was panting with exertion as whatever was inside the box fought back, but in the end Harry’s Flames consumed the box, whatever was inside it, the table beneath it all, the ugly bust behind the box, and a few other trinkets in a vicious splash of color. ‘ _I won.’_ Harry thought triumphantly as there was an unearthly scream from the melted gunk.  Nearly immediately afterwards he sank to his knees in exhaustion even as the euphoric high of victory began to set in.

Harry sat there for a while, getting his breath back and trying to blot out the dark spots dancing on the edges of his vision. His intuition, meanwhile, was humming happily, swirling contented tendrils of warmth through his chest.  The warmth acting like an affectionate pet thanking their master for giving them a particularly satisfying treat.

Eventually, however, Harry made it to his feet and wove his way back towards the door, so exhausted that he wobbled a bit drunkenly.  By the time he made it back to the hallways he had finally managed to walk like a normal person and caught the tail-end of the people coming from the Halloween Feast.  He meandered along with the crowd as he reached the second floor- where he had to get to take the right fucking staircase to get back to the fucking tower; and he _really_ needed to stop sounding like Xanxus in his head- when the herd stopped and he heard an unpleasantly familiar voice crow. “ _You’re next mudbloods_!”

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 “Let me get this straight.”  Xanxus chortled in dark amusement nearly a month later.  “You go to this room full of old fucking shit, and while you’re exploring your intuition goes fucking haywire, so you find the source and you destroy some bullshit box and hear a scream like that fucking trash from last fucking year.  Then you make your way back towards your fucking dorm _at the back of the fucking crowd_ and because of some bullshit message written in fucking blood on a fucking wall outside of a _girl’s bathroom_ by some chickenshit ‘Heir of Slytherin’- that stupid fucking cat being fossilized- the fucking trash who run your fucking school decides to start a dueling club.  When, after that bat-trash forces your fucking participation, your _opponent conjures a fucking mamba_ and since _you don’t get bitten by it_ , after that blonde-trash pisses it off, the entire trash school thinks that you’re somehow this bullshit Heir who wants to kill all the people like your fucking mother.  Did I get all that right, shitty brat?”

As exhausted as he is with the situation, Harry was amused by how his mentor has summed up the past month of his life.  He was particularly amused by the excessive use of the word ‘trash’.  “Pretty fucking much.”

Xanxus flicked him lazily on the forehead, “Language, shitty brat.”

“Like you have any room to talk.”  Harry muttered mutinously.

Xanxus gave the teen a superior smirk. “I’m a fucking adult, shitty brat.”

“You’re a half-melted _popsicle_.”

“Shitty brat!”  Xanxus roared without heat, settling his back against the ice that was only encasing his legs by now- and forming a strange sort of throne.  “Give it a week and I’ll be able to fucking walk, and then I’ll beat your fucking ass into the floor for your fucking cheek.”

Harry merely grinned unrepentantly and danced away from the man before Xanxus could change his mind and decide to grab hold of him- half frozen or not the man was _strong._  “Still, though, I am totally over these fuckers.”  He said tiredly as he settled back down on the flame-patterned ice- still out of reach, of course, Harry is not stupid- to go over the Italian worksheet that Xanxus had conjured up for him to work on.

His mentor grunted noncommittally. “It’s like the magic in the air leeches all the fucking sense out of their heads.”

Harry hummed in the back of his throat and replied absently. “Yeah, it’s pretty annoying really.  They’ve got stalker clubs now whose sole purpose is to make sure they follow me around and keep me from doing ‘evil’.  I guess I had kinda hoped in the back of my mind that when they’d cooled down Ron and/or Hermione would stick up for me after all the shit we went through together last year, you know?  But some _idiot_ started a rumor that I talked to the stupid snake and now even the people who _were there_ believe it.  And, you know, since it was Voldemort’s calling card and _all the written resources say that it’s an ability used by Dark Wizards_ everyone expects me to start exhibiting ‘Dark Lord Behavior’, in which case it will be their _civic duty_ to _dispose_ of me.”

“Shitty fucking trash.”  Xanxus spat, “That’s why you have to pick your fucking friends fucking carefully, shitty brat.  It’s not their money, their looks, or their words that you have to judge them by- it’s their fucking _actions_.  You don’t want to fucking end up giving your loyalty to fucking trash like them.”

“Yeah, I kinda see what you were always talking about now.” Harry mumbled absently, his brow furrowing in thought as he methodically made his way through the worksheet, Xanxus was a hardass taskmaster, “I mean, a little part of me has honestly died this past month, truthfully.  I think, in another time, I could have forgiven them, really, for all the shit from before- it was all stupid shit that we were fighting over to begin with- but we could have come through it and been better for it.  But all this?  The backstabbing and the rumors and the cold shoulders from the whole house because the rest of Gryffindor are taking their cues from Ron and Hermione?”  Harry shook his head and flicked a glance at Xanxus. “There’s no way that I could trust them to have my back after all this shit.  One way trip.”

Xanxus nodded grimly, no matter how many times he saw it, seeing the decay of innocence was never a pleasant thing to witness. “One way trip, shitty brat.”

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Harry’s Christmas highlighted _exactly_ how lonely his life had become- there was no Weasley jumper this year, no candy from his classmates, no mysterious package containing belongings of his dead parents.

Just the desolate, vacant Second Year boy’s dormitory and echoing silence that came from being the room’s sole occupant.

A part of him curled into a ball and screamed at the loss of the blessed warmth that the Weasley family had brought into his life, but the part of him that Xanxus had been carefully honing the last few months reminded him that _fake warmth_ was _worse_ than _no warmth at all_.  That eventually he’d find his place in the world with people who cared about the _real_ him and not just the person that they wanted to see.

It was still a bitter, empty comfort on that harsh Christmas morning, though.

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Students came back from the hols in high spirits and since no attacks had occurred over Christmas Break while Harry was in the castle, everyone relaxed a little.  The ‘Harry Hunters’ backed off and he was finally able to breathe again, which was nice, because the close scrutiny had been getting on his last nerve.

Not to mention that Xanxus had been fully unthawed two weeks into December and after months of following Xanxus’ diet and exercise regimen he was now being taught how to fight _practically_.

That is to say, getting the _shit_ beat out of him every other night by his sadistic bastard of a trainer.  Oh, _and wonder of wonders_ , all his muscle soreness and bruising carried over to his daytime body, which had created more than a few awkward questions.  Quidditch practices were _torture_ as Oliver seemed to take Harry’s improvement as a personal achievement and pushed the _entire team_ harder.

Xanxus had laughed when Harry had told him.  Actually full-out belly laughed- and then proceeded to beat the younger male down with even more ferocity than usual.

So, basically, Harry was a giant walking bruise.

Harry was, however, thankful for Xanxus’ training- it was helping him avoid the Weasley twins’ increasingly dangerous ‘pranks’, they were apparently taking his avoidance of their pranks as a personal challenge.

Then came the day that the game against Slytherin was cancelled because Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater had been petrified, and the winds changed direction once more.  Because Harry had been on his broom in full view of everyone and even the worst of his critics began to doubt his status as the diabolical ‘Heir’.

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Xanxus laughed himself _hoarse_.  “Repeat that fucking shit, shitty brat.”

Harry grinned wryly from over the top of his worksheets- more maths, exactly how much math did Xanxus know?!  “I _said_ \- _cough_ old man _cough_ \- that now they are stopping me in the hallways to apologize and telling me how ‘ _sorry we are for doubting you, Harry, please forgive us’_.”  He finished in an appropriately squeaky voice.

Xanxus wiped his eyes clear of mirth and casually hit Harry over the back of the head with _just enough_ force to plant his face into the floor before settling back on his ‘ice throne’ which had remained even after he could move his body around.  “Have you figured out what the fuck ever is making fossils out of your trash classmates yet, shitty brat?”

Harry picked himself up as he replied. “Yeah, there’s a couple things it could be- ruling out spells and potions, it has to be some type of creature.  I’ve heard plenty of rumors lately, but I didn’t really put it all together until I heard Madam Pince bitching- today- about one of her books being defaced on the day of Granger and Clearwater’s attack that I pieced it all together.  The only thing that fits the restrictions of this area is a Basilisk.”

Xanxus whistled. “Nasty fucking creature, not sure if your Storm Flames can disintegrate something like that, shitty brat.  We’d better start working on a Plan B, because my gut, and experience with the shitty trash of your fucking school, is telling me that you’re going to be the poor fucker who is going to be dealing with the fucking thing.”

Harry gave a grim nod. “Mine too.”

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 “ALL STUDENTS PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR DORMITORIES IMMEDIATELY!” The booming, magically amplified voice of Professor McGonagall- who was Acting Headmistress since Headmaster Dumbledore had been removed a few weeks ago- echoed off the walls of the castle like a death knell.

_Danger approaches, be on guard._ Harry’s intuition was coiling around in agitation, twisting around his chest like a caged lion, and it had been like this since the previous evening.  Even _Xanxus_ had been restless the previous night, forgoing their usual schedule to go over battle tactics and exit strategies in an attempt to assuage their mounting feelings of _imminent danger_.

Nonetheless, Harry gathered his belongings and started to make his way back towards the dormitory.

He was just contemplating pulling on his Invisibility Cloak- which hadn’t left his person longer than it took him to shower or wash it since the previous summer- when someone slammed into him.

“ _Harry_!” Ron Weasley greeted the brunet, eyes wild and breathing uneven.  Harry was so surprised to have the boy greet him as a _person_ and not as some shady personification of darkness or smarmy backatabber and worst friend in the history of friendship that he didn’t remember to protest as Ron pulled him down the hallway towards the DADA Professor’s office.  “It’s Ginny!  She’s missing, taken by the Heir!  I heard McGonagall tell Snape about it just after the announcement!” The red head called to him as they made it to the office door. “Professor Lockhart’s supposed to be looking for her-“

Ron threw open the door to see their blonde menace of a Professor packing his obscene amounts of clothes in what looked like an incredible hurry.  “What the bloody hell are you doing?!” Ron roared angrily at the man. “You’re supposed to be saving my sister!”

_‘Oh, right.’_   Harry’s brain finally decided to come back online as Ron and Lockhart exchanged heated words. ‘Ginny, _Ron’s little sister.  The red-haired squeaky female mouse who sent me that nauseating Valentine.  She’s been looking pretty peaky the last few months.’_

“-hardly expect me to do my work without knowing that my wardrobe is safe.  People worked hard to make me these clothes, you know-“

“-MY SISTER’S BEEN TAKEN BY THE SLIMY HEIR AND YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT YOUR CLOTHES-“

“Uh, guys.”  Harry finally interjected, “Do either of you know where the supposed lair of this supposed heir happens to be?”

What followed was a long, rambling, hysteric dissertation of crap, but Harry managed to glean that the entrance was apparently located in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.   Apparently Hermione and Ron had been investigating- as Hermione was a Muggleborn and highly concerned with the Heir and the potential havoc they could wreak on the school- and Ron had pieced together some clues left behind by Hermione before she had gotten petrified in order to come to that conclusion.

Harry saw Lockhart reach for his wand- and once again his intuition whispered _fake, dangerous, watch yourself_ \- as Ron bullied the man out of the door and towards the aforementioned bathroom.  They made their way to the bathroom and listened to Myrtle’s sad tale, with Harry keeping a wary eye on Lockhart’s wand as his intuition kept prodding him that the man was dangerous.

Eventually, Ron and Lockhart began to argue again, so Harry wandered over to the sink that Myrtle had indicated didn’t work.  He was fussing around with a snake drawing, basically poking at it with his Flames, when unexpectedly the sink sunk inward and a stone chute appeared in a groaning cacophony of stonework.

_‘Well, that’s one way to open the entrance.’_   Harry thought bemusedly.  He looked back to see Ron’s gobsmacked stare and Lockhart’s calculating one before throwing on his most disarming smile and chirping cheerfully. “Ladies first!”  Harry seized Lockhart by the arm in a lightning-quick motion- he’d been dodging Xanxus’ punches for _months_ at this point, the honest fear for his own survival had increased his speed _exponentially_ \- and threw him into the dark tunnel, waiting a few moments before hopping in after him, not even bothering to see if Ron was going to follow him.

Harry made it to the bottom after what felt like an _age_ and immediately rolled his body to soften the impact, managing to land on his feet instead of on top of the groaning pile of limbs that was Lockhart.  A fact he was doubly grateful for a few moment later when Ron came barreling down the chute only to make an ungraceful touchdown atop the groaning man.

A few minutes later Ron had once again bullied Lockhart into walking in front of them as they picked their way through the piles of small animal bones that littered the floor of the dimly lit cavern.  ‘ _We must be under the lake.  It smells like water, but not rancid like stagnant water would.’_

Harry’s intuition was a mass of warnings by this point, so as they passed the ginormous snakeskin- ‘ _I should grab that and find a way to give it to Xanxus for Christmas or his birthday if he ever gets unfrozen in real life,’-_ so when Lockhart got a hold of Ron’s broken wand and made a dramatic speech about _Obliviating_ their memories and writing them a heroic ending in his next book, Harry just rolled out the line of fire and watched as the spell backfired.

The cave-in that left him to be the _only person able to go for_ ward was a bit much though.

_‘Really?  How is this my life?  I can’t even use my Flames to disintegrate this shit ‘cause I don’t trust Ron to not rat me out.’_

“Harry!” Ron’s desperate voice sounded from the other side, and Harry could hear the grunts of exertion as the other boy tried to move the rocks out of the way. “Harry, just go-go on and sa-save G-Ginny!  I’ll clear this bloody mess out of the way and catch up!  Lockhart’s gone barmy, so I won’t have to worry about him attacking me or anything!”

Even though Harry had _several_ things to say to that statement, and _none_ of them were complementary, he immediately put on his ‘boy savior’ voice and replied. “Alright!  Just do your best, mate!  I’ll go on ahead!”

“Thanks, Harry, and _hurry_!  She might now have much time left!” Ron’s reply left Harry angry and hurt, but the young Potter marshalled his feelings into submission and moved forward, this was neither the time nor the place.

_‘Yeah, fuck this noise.’_

Harry cautiously picked his way through the tunnels, focusing mostly on his intuition’s vague directions, which eventually led him to a round door decorated with snakes.  Once again he opened the door by poking at it with his Storm Flames.  ‘ _Apparently.’ Harry_ thought in vindictive amusement. ‘ _Disintegration trumps Slytherin’s fames blood talent.  I have no words for how amusing it is to me that a predominately muggle-used talent can trump a blood supremist’s protections.’_

Then, once he got inside the chamber he was greeted with the sight of a male teenager in Slytherin robes that was mostly see through, and Ginny Weasley lying pale as death with a leather-bound book nestled against her chest.  The scenery was even kind enough to be _creepy as fuck_ , with creepy snake statues, greenish tinted lighting, and a huge statue of an incredibly ugly man.  The teenage almost-fully-corporeal visage introduced himself as Tom Marvolo Riddle- also known as the baby version Dark Lord Voldemort- and had introduced the ugly statue that dominated the chamber as being his ancestor, the great Salazar Slytherin.  The more-than-a-ghost but less than fully corporeal shade had then proceeded to wax poetic about his plan to use Ginny Weasley’s life force to return himself to ‘life’.

_{“Trash who employ the use of fucking monologues give away their own weaknesses, shitty brat.  They like to gloat so fucking much that they point out their fucking weak points without meaning to- and they tend to make stupid fucking mistakes when they think that they have the upper hand.  Let them talk and use what I’ve fucking pounded into your brain to use their own fucking stupidity against them.”}_

So, Harry let the teenage boy talk, doing his best to act utterly terrified- which, as he was scared out of his mind wasn’t all that difficult, really- while he slowly edged towards the body of Ginny Weasley.

Or, more accurately, towards the book that the _ridiculous_ girl had written in all school year.  ‘ _Xanxus might be a weird situation, but at least I can see him, and I didn’t spill my guts to an inanimate object with a fully human personality and weird fucking attributes.’_   He thought uncharitably as the teenager in front of him seemed to grow tired of talking and apparently decided that now was the time to try to kill Harry.

_{“The thing about your world’s shitty fucking powers, shitty brat, is that if you know the fucking wand movements required for the spells and Latin words that help shape them- you can at least get a basic fucking idea of what spell the trash are going to cast at you.  You can fucking use this to your fucking advantage if you learn to open your mouth as if you are going to say one word and spit out an entirely fucking different one.  Your practice in Italian and French will help you in this misdirection.”}_

Harry raised his wand, and Tom mocked him. “A _disarming charm,_ Harry, really, one would thi-“

“ _Accio_ Ginny Weasley’s wand!” Harry said, lips twisting in the shape of the disarming charm, even as his words belied them.

So, now Harry had two wands and Tom had none.  This was great, as Harry barely paused before sprinting the remainder of the distance to Ginny’s body and using his foot to flip the diary away from her, calling on his Flames and driving them into the book even as his intuition suddenly **_screamed_**.

The next few minutes were sort of a blur, but as Harry started to play hide-n-seek with the fucking Basilisk that the teenage Dark Lord had called, he suddenly realized what his intuition had been trying to tell him just before he’d driven his Flames into the cursed book.

The cursed fucking thing held Storm Flames.  Harry’s Storm Flames wouldn’t do enough damage to destroy the damn thing, not with the added magical protections on the book and the power it had stolen from Ginny.

Harry was going to have to find an alternate way to destroy the accursed thing, as neither he nor Xanxus had figured out a way to procure a weapon other than his wand and Harry just _knew_ that he didn’t have the magical knowledge to destroy it with his wand.  So, he ran and ran, desperately dodging the shrieking, hulking beast with the red plume on its forehead and trying to urgently to think of a way out of this fucked up situation that didn’t result in his death.

Even though a sinister voice suggested that the only one lost down here that would be mourned would be the girl.  Another voice, that sounded remarkably like Xanxus’ gravely drawl, not-so-politely growled at him that if he died here the other man would find a way to make Harry’s _afterlife_ miserable.

Xanxus, even as a vague disembodied voice, was _twice_ as terrifying as any self-pity or self-depreciation that Harry’s psyche could conjure.  Harry needed to _live_.

Which gave Harry enough resolve to weave through the tunnels eventually bringing him back to the main chamber, his wand firmly in his hand.   Ginny’s wand was tucked into the side of his boot- thank Merlin that he’d worn them today instead of his other shoes!- but his cloak was still under his button-up shirt, as he had not had a chance to throw it on during the pursuit.

Harry had just scaled the ugly statue that the snake had crawled out of, listening to the annoying bastard on the ground prattle on about being the _greatest sorcerer in the world_ , to when Harry snapped out. “Oh yeah, then what would you say Dumbledore is, trash?”  Nearly immediately after the words had left his mouth there was a burst of brilliant flames and a gorgeous red-and-gold bird the size of a swan appeared.  The bird chucked a bundle of cloth at Harry’s head before going to over to terrorize the Basilisk, if the shouts of anger coming from the baby Dark Lord were to be believed.

Harry unrolled the bundle of cloth and glanced at the thing dubiously. “The Sorting Hat?”  He muttered rather perplexedly.

“Hohohoho, this is the most excitement I’ve had in _centuries_!”  The scrap of fabric burst out gleefully.  “Well, put me on!  Go on now lad!”

Harry gave the old relic a dubious look, but complied and he felt the same presence in his head that he had felt at his sorting nearly two years ago.

_‘Ohhohoho, what’s this?  Hmmm, well, I was_ right _you would have done well in Slytherin lad.  Shitty brat, indeed.’_

**_‘Get out of my head before I disintegrate you!’_**   Harry thought, starting to panic a little- he had important secrets to keep, dammit!

_‘Calm down, calm down, geez, brats these days.  If I could talk about what I saw in people’s heads the trash in charge would have ‘misplaced’ me ages ago.  I rather like this Xanxus fellow, bring him by for a chat whenever you find him, won’t you lad?  Ah, sounds like the battle needs you, pity- I’d have liked to stayed in your mind longer, your mentor is my kind of man- he truly reminds me of Godric.  Ah, well, duty calls.’_

With that rather bewildering statement the Hat’s presence withdrew from Harry’s mind even as Harry’s vision darkened when something heavy collided with the crown of his head.  Harry reflexively caught the Hat in his free hand even as something metal clanged to the ground behind him- a sword.

_‘Better than nothing I suppose.   Maybe I can channel my Flames into it?’_   With that loose plan in mind he stuffed the Hat into his belt, grabbed the sword with his left hand, and charged down towards where he could hear the Basilisk thrashing about and the baby Dark Lord screeching about the beast being able to still smell Harry.

_{“Sometimes, shitty brat, you’ll face something or someone that’s fucking bigger, badder, and better than you.  When that fucking happens, you put on your fucking big girl panties and steamroll the fuck over it.  It isn’t fucking shit unless you let it fucking be.  Don’t think can’t or won’t or maybe- crush your fears, your doubts and fucking own that victory and you’ll make it to the other fucking side alive.”}_

That’s exactly what Harry did.  He didn’t stop to think or plan or deliberate as he charged towards the monster with a wordless battle cry, aiming for the mouth as everything seemed to slow down around him.  He didn’t pay attention to the fact that the beast’s teeth were as long as his arm, or that it could crush him with a thought.  He fell into the mindset that Xanxus had drilled into him and when the beast opened its mouth to swallow him, Harry thrust the sword upwards with all of his might, straight through the mouth and into the brain, killing the beast instantly.

Unfortunately, instinct kicked in and the mouth slammed closed, lodging a tooth deep into his arm even as he twisted the sword free of the tough hide and nearly evaded the involuntary action. 

Harry didn’t let that stop him.  He remembered reading that Basilisk poison was almost _the_ most toxic substance in the wizarding world, only being surpassed by undiluted Nundu breath.  Harry barely paused to listen to his body’s protests as he stumbled towards that _stupid fucking book_ and yanked the tooth out of his arm and drove it through the accursed thing.

_‘I’m going to die saving the life of my ex-best friend’s sister.  Fucking outstanding.’_

Harry’s head was going fuzzy and he was beginning to lose feeling in his hands and legs as he slumped against one of the creepy statues. ‘ _Sorry, Xanxus, I guess you’ll have to find someone else to entertain you.’_   He felt, more than saw, a bundle of bright feathers settle next to him. “Thanks, little buddy, I just wasn’t quite quick enough to finish the job.  You were amazing, though.  Keep Hedwig company for me, will you?  I haven’t been to see her as much as I’d like this year.”

Harry closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the state, and focused on his Flames.  He focused on the golden color that he saw in them whenever he used them, and tried to coax it further out.

_{“The gold colored Flames that you see are most likely Sun Flames, they have a remarkable capacity for healing.  They’re your secondary Flame, which are a bitch to train, but I imagine that you’ve been using them subconsciously for years thanks to the worthless fucking trash that call themselves your fucking family, so they’re actually pretty strong for your age, shitty brat.”}_

Harry felt drops of water fall on the wound from somewhere, but he was more preoccupied by the fact that his spark of gold became a brilliant conflagration of pure sunfire.  He could almost feel it as the Flames moved through his body, obliterating and repairing the damage done from the poison, and it was barely two minutes before he went from the brink of death to I-just-got-out-of-a-battle-but-I’m-alive.

Turning his head, he saw the bird perched on a hunk of stone just beyond his shoulder, and it finally clicked that this magnificent creature had to be a bloody _Phoenix_.  “Thank you.”  He said sincerely, reaching out to give the avian an affectionate chin scratch, which it accepted cordially.  Across the room the youngest Weasley began to stir, and as Harry had no desire to deal with hysterics he quickly scrambled to his feet and swiped his wand from where it had been lying beside him.  “ _Stupefy_.”

His avian companion chirped at him inquisitively. “I don’t want her to irritate any injuries she might have.”  He explained easily, earning a happy chirp as the bird launched itself into the air, grabbed the Sorting Hat and disappeared in a flash of fire.

Harry made his way over to the girl, shrugging off his button up shirt and wrapping the destroyed diary inside it, before undoing his belt and wrapping it around his chest as a sort of makeshift sheath for the sword, which he secured to his back.  He placed the wrapped diary on top of Ginny- spending a moment wishing he knew a feather light charm that could be used on a person- and picked her up bridal style before he began to head back towards the site of the cave-in.

_‘Fuck.  This.  Noise.’_

Harry picked his way through the debris back towards where he had left Ron.  Apparently Ron heard his footsteps because the red-headed Second Year started screaming his sister’s name. “Ginny!  GINNY!  Is she alright!  GINNY!”

Harry took a moment to tamp down on his exhaustion and extreme amounts of irritation. “She’s fine Ron! I used ‘ _Stupefy_ ’ on her just in case she had any injuries that I couldn’t see.”

“Oh thank Merlin she’s alright!”

_‘Yeah, glad to know you care_.’  Harry thought bitterly before ruthlessly pushing the thought aside, it wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on such things at the moment.  He gently sat Ginny to one side and shifted some rocks by hand- he didn’t want to use his wand and make the whole thing crash down when he’d survived a fucking Basilisk already today.  After a few minutes of effort, during which he heard Ron working on the cave-in from the other side, Harry finally saw that they had a large enough opening to make things work.  “Alright Ron, it looks like the hole is wide enough for me to push her through.  I’m going to ‘ _Renervate_ ’ her and then use ‘ _Petrificus Totalis_ ’ just in case she’s got any spinal injuries.  Like I said I don’t know if she’s got any injuries or what kind, so I’m going to be as careful as I can, alright mate?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.  Send her through.”

Harry quickly went over to the young girl and preformed the spells, using sticking charms to hold her clothes in place, as he sat the sword and diary aside.  He carefully levitated- he was a fucking wizard and he was fucking tired, bite him- her through the small opening. It was pretty tense for a few moments, but when he heard Ron’s exclamations of joy from the other side he released the spell and let the other boy pull her the rest of the way through.  He grabbed the wrapped diary and sword and wriggled his own way through, absently wishing once more that he could trust Ron enough to use his Storm Flames to just disintegrate the stupid rocks.

When he had made it back through there was a flash of fire and his avian friend was back, settling onto a rock and waving their tail feathers at the group.  Lockhart was looking around like a bright-eyed child and exclaiming over the smallest things, so Harry wrote him off as a lost cause and did his best to ignore that situation.

“That’s Dumbledore’s Phoenix!  His name is Fawkes!” Ron exclaimed excitedly from where he was hovering over his little sister.

“I think he wants us to grab onto his feathers.” Harry said, re-strapping the sword to his back, and grabbing the diary- he was ready to get this adventure over with.  “You want me to stick Ginny to you?”

“If you don’t mind, mate.”  Ron replied distractedly, still gawking at the beautiful bird.

Harry would have been annoyed if the other boy’s distraction hadn’t made his job easier as he guided him into a position to use a safety charm he’d found in a Quidditch book to hold the two together.  Technically it was usually used by parents to stick small children to them when riding a broom, but it would work just fine for this purpose as well.  “Alright, everyone grab a feather- yes, even you Professor.  Take us away, Fawkes.”

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Fawkes the Phoenix took them to Professor McGonagall’s office, where she, the Weasley parents, Headmaster Dumbledore, and the other three school-age Weasley brothers were all congregated.

“ _My baby_!  What did you do to my _baby_!” The red-haired matron screeched, flying across the room and slapping a hand across Harry’s cheek, which he allowed as he tried desperately to tamp down on the raging shitstorm of negative emotions that was brewing inside his chest. 

_{“Not everyone is going to be fucking grateful, shitty brat.  There are going to be a lot of fucking people who are going to be willing to believe the absolute fucking worst about you because that is what they want to fucking see.  Never show a sliver of weakness outside your fucking den or among those who you don’t explicitly fucking trust, because there’s going to be a lot of people watching to see how much you can take before you fucking break just so they can have the fucking pleasure of putting you down.”}_

He kept his head down and to the side as he heard Professor McGonagall’s voice say something disapproving, and then Ron, wonder of wonders, explaining what Harry had done and the reasoning that Harry had given the other boy for doing it.

Harry was aware enough to side-step the hug that the woman tried to wrap him in, though.

“Please don’t touch me.” He asked in the most level voice he could manage, resolutely not allowing himself to feel hurt by the disappointment in the matronly woman’s eyes.  He also resolutely ignored the measured stares he could feel from both the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall.

“Harry, dear, I’m so sorry!” The red-haired matriarch pled, her eyes earnest and sincere as she wrung her hands nervously in front of her and flicked her eyes over to her daughter, who was now being held by her husband. “It’s just-all the things that the boys have had to say about you this year have been so _negative_!  They didn’t really match what I saw last summer, of course, but a mother worries for her children, and so, with the way you all look, naturally I thought-“

Harry carefully pushed all of his emotions out of his voice, squared his tired body, and willed his eyes to be as neutral as possible. “Thank you for the apology, Mrs. Weasley.  It is understandable that a mother would worry about the wellbeing of her children.”  He prayed that his voice would hold true as her face crumpled and the men of her family bristled.  _‘Don’t break, not yet.  Just a little longer, Harry.  Hold fast.’_ “However, I think that Ginny is in need of Madam Pomfrey’s excellent care far more than I need anything.”

“Young Mr. Potter makes an excellent suggestion.  Minerva, please see the Weasley family and Professor Lockhart to Poppy while I ask Mr. Potter to regale me with this, no doubt, thrilling tale.” The Headmaster interjected pleasantly.

Professor McGonagall gave Harry one more firm look, silently accepting the slim piece of wood that he slid from the inside of his boot, before firmly ushering out the room’s other occupants.  No sooner than the door had shut, Harry launched into his audience-friendly version of the tale.

_{“When you’re alone with an old fart who wants to know every fucking thing about you because they can’t decide if you’re a threat or not, never fucking ever let them take control of the conversation.  Trust me, your Headmaster sounds like my shitty old fucking man, shitty brat.  Also, I swear that they fucking read minds, so always push what you want them to see forward so that they don’t fucking dig deeper.  The shitty old man’s fucking buddy Reborn does that Jedi-mind-trick bullshit.”}_

When he was done, the Headmaster asked to see the book, and Harry passed it and the sword over.  “Hmm.”  The Headmaster murmured contemplatively as he observed the book and the boy critically. “Is there anything you’d like to add Harry?  Anything at all?”

_{“Don’t fall for the harmless fucking grandpa routine, shitty brat.  Stick to your fucking story, and keep your fucking thoughts clear.  It’s your life, you’re allowed to fucking live it.  The easiest way to get them to shut up, especially at your age, is to show a sign of surrender- bare the side of your neck, tilt your head towards your chest, or hunch your fucking shoulders and your body will fucking convince them that you’re not fucking hiding anything.”}_

“No, sir.” Harry replied, a sardonic smile tugging at his lips as he canted his head to the side in an unassuming expression of surrender.  “Unless you’d like to hear me complain about how Tom owes me a new shirt.”

Dumbledore let out a bark of delighted laughter. “Good to see that your trials haven’t rid you of your mother’s tongue, m’boy.”  The old man then leaned forward, steepling his hands and looking Harry directly in the eyes. “I want to thank you Harry, for you must have showed me great loyalty down there to have called Fawkes to you.”

Harry held his thoughts in place judiciously. “Well, sir, you are the greatest wizard I know.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled cheerily behind his spectacles. “Well, I’m afraid that that might be because you don’t very many wizards dear boy, but I digress-“

Just then the door to the office were thrown open with a loud _bang_ as Lucius Malfoy came strutting as if he owned the place; the battered little elf that have visited Harry the previous summer tottering after him, covered in bandages and bruises.  “Dumbledore, I see you’ve returned.”  The man drawled arrogantly as he and the Headmaster began to snipe back and forth.

Harry kept part of his attention on the conversation and the other part on the pitiful creature before him.  At this point Harry wasn’t even mad anymore, the little thing had been trying to help- desperately, if the Hogwarts elves were to be believed.  Apparently they had had to ban this particular elf from the castle by the end of September due to the copious amounts of ‘help’ that he had tried to bestow on Harry.  Harry noticed that when Malfoy sneered at the book the little elf’s eyes darted from the book, to his master, and back.

“Come Dobby, we’re _leaving_.” Malfoy sneered as he swept out of the room without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Headmaster.” Harry said as soon as Malfoy was out of earshot. “May I borrow your book a moment?”

Dumbledore’s smile turned mischievous.  “Of course, my dear boy.”

What transpired next was a glorious set of circumstances in which Harry tricked Lucius Malfoy out of his servant, who then proceeded to toss the blonde prat down the stairs.  Harry looked down at the little being with a soft smile. “Let’s find a place to talk, yeah?”

Dobby nodded happily.

They found a classroom a small ways away and Harry used his wand to clear off two seats. “Ok, have a seat Dobby.”  He waited out the elf’s theatrical exclamations of his greatness with a level of fondness that honestly surprised him.  Once the little being was calm and seated, Harry started again.  “From what I understand from the Hogwarts elves, your race needs to be bonded to a wizard, witch, wizarding family, or ancestral wizarding home for your magic to stay calm and happy-  you use your own life-force otherwise, causing a premature death.  But, when we met you said that you wanted to be free, will you explain that to me, please?”

Dobby nodded rapidly. “That is beings trues, Mister Harry Potter, sirs.  But Dobbys is rathers beings frees and happys than beings bounds to Former Bad Masters.”

Harry nodded. “Totally understandable, buddy.  I’d rather die than wash baby Malfoy’s underwear, too.”

They both took a moment to snicker, even as Dobby looked vaguely horrified to be doing so.

“Ok, here’s the thing Dobby.  I grew up in the nonmagical world, so the idea of owning a person is horrifying to me anyways.  At the same time, there are a lot of things that you’d be the perfect-er, elf for.  Do you think we can come to an agreement?  Like a contract of employment?”

Dobby squinted his eyes at Harry in suspicious confusion. “What is sirs bes speaking abouts?”

Harry smiled.  “An employment contract is where two or more parties- in this case me and you- agree to a set of terms.  If someone breaks the terms then the contract can be terminated by the person who was slighted.”

Not long after that Harry found himself the employer of an enthusiastic House Elf, for the cheap price of a bond and seven knuts a month.

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Harry went to sleep that night fairly exhausted, his usual set sticking and silencing charms in place around his bed curtains.  He slipped off into sleep easily, as he was quite eager to unload about his incredibly shitty day to Xanxus.

So, it was with a fair amount of surprise that he woke up the next morning without having seen the man.  For the first time in nearly a year.

_‘Xanxus wasn’t there.’_   He thought numbly as he sat up in his cushy four poster bed, disoriented and more than a little distraught.

Harry tried to tell himself that it was a fluke, that he was just too tired and slept too deeply to dream.  It didn’t change the fact that his intuition was telling him that Xanxus was longer going to be waiting for him inside of his dreams, though.

That night he went to bed early, hoping and praying that his mentor would be there, and that his absence had just been a sick joke.

But that night too……

_‘Xanxus wasn’t there.’_

The same could be said for every night thereafter, leading up to the end of term.

_Xanxus was gone._

Harry went through his days in a haze, slipping through shadows and shortcuts by like a ghost by rote.  Thankfully the Weasley Clan had departed that first night after the incident, which meant that none of them were pressing him for details, but he couldn’t truly appreciate that fact when _Xanxus was gone_.  In retrospect avoiding absolutely everyone wasn’t doing him any favors in the rumor mill or with public opinion, but Harry just couldn’t bring himself to fucking _care_.  He had had the presence of mind to have Dobby filch Lockhart’s crap and hide it until he could go through it at the Dursley house, but even that thought couldn’t cheer him up.  Harry stubbornly refused to allow him to give up hope, though, to let himself believe that it was just a fluke.  After all the dreams had started when he’d gotten back ‘home’ last year so maybe…..maybe……

_‘Xanxus is gone.  He got tired of you too!  Poor, pitiful little Harry Potter, all alone in the big, bad world.’_  His mind taunted him throughout the day, especially when he woke up in the morning with hot tears trailing down his cheeks.

_‘No he’s not!’_   Harry thought back fiercely.   ‘ _Xanxus wouldn’t just leave!  He hates disloyal trash almost as much as he hates liars!  He’d never become that!’_

Different notions and theories tried to slip into his mind, but he held onto the hope that he’d see his mentor again.  Because if Xanxus was really gone that would be that Harry was-

_‘No.  Don’t think that way.’_

But-

**_‘No.’_ **

Harry honestly couldn’t tell say, looking back, how he managed to finish that term without killing someone or causing a Blood Feud,  He did spend most of his time with Hedwig- he really fucking loved that owl.

However, he finally- _finally-_ found himself on the Hogwarts Express.  He spent the journey to London wrapped up in his Invisibility Cloak, hugging his shrunken trunk to his chest, in one of the noisy baggage cars, for once anxious to return to the Dursley home.

When the train finally arrived- after a couple moderately adventurous trips to the loo- Harry nimbly wove his way to the barrier, whipped off his cloak, and slipped through.  He had let Hedwig find her own way towards Number Four this year.

Spotting his uncle glancing around warily, Harry swiftly made his way over.  “Uncle Vernon.”  He muttered as he ducked his head and headed for the lot, impatiently waiting for the man to lead him- he would have gone ahead, but chances were that his uncle had changed vehicles since the previous summer.

He automatically went for one of the back doors of the car that his uncle had unlocked, when the man spoke. “B- _Harry,_ why don’t you sit up front so people don’t talk.”

Not particularly in the mood for his uncle’s shit, Harry yanked open the door and got in. “It’s _fine.”_ He ground out through his teeth.

His uncle made a strangled noise and changed colors, but clambered into the driver’s seat and set off for the house.

They made good time back to Number Four, and once they were inside the house his uncle sent him straight up to his room.

He scaled the stairs and threw the door open only to freeze up at the sight that greeted him.

“Fucking miss me, shitty brat?”

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Quite frankly the hour after he laid eyes on Xanxus _in the flesh_ for the first time would forever be his most embarrassing.

_Ever._

Thankfully, Lussuria was the only other member present and he found the whole thing to be _adorable_.

“So.” Harry said once he’d finally calmed down and listened to Xanxus’ story, trying to scrub the remnants of tears off his face as he was _officially fucking embarrassed_.  “Somehow my newest near-death experience caused the ice encasing your body to shatter, you managed to escape, got in contact with your men, _bought my uncle’s company_ , and renovated my room, did I get all that?”

Xanxus nodded, the kid’s breakdown was equal parts amusing and terrifying and he was looking forward to his brat branching out and meeting other members of the Family. “Yeah, that’s what fucking happened.  The shitty fucking trash downstairs have been given their order and they better _toe the fucking line_ because these shitty ‘Wards’ only need for your shitty so-called aunt or cousin to be _technically_ alive.”  Xanxus gestured to the green-haired, blue eyed male with the red, bedazzled pushed up into chin-length his hair. “This is one of my men, Lussuria, he’s going to be staying here for a few weeks, both to train you and to make sure that the fucking trash know that I’m fucking serious about killing them.  If it wouldn’t cause undue attention from that cat bitch down the street, they’d be dead by _now_.”

“Mrs. Figg?”

Lussuria spoke for the first time still reclining in the comfortable looking chair that he had been ensconced in for the past few hours. “Yeah, sweetheart, she’s a plant.  Boss is leaning towards her being a plant of that Headmaster of yours.”

Harry gaped unattractively, stuck on the first part of Lussuria’s statement.  “She was my babysitter when I was little.  The only person who seems to have a vested interest that I stay is here is...”  He turned his wounded gaze back to Xanxus, who nodded grimly.

“I told you to watch out for the fucking shitty old man types, shitty brat.”  The tanned male glanced at the clock, sighed heavily and slid to his feet. “I need to leave to catch my flight back to fucking Italy, the shitty old man is having heart attacks every other hour, ‘cause he can’t put my ass back on ice without losing a fuckton of credibility.  Listen to Luss, shitty brat, and apply your fucking self.  You might not have all the time that you’re fucking asleep to train, but you’ll have all your waking hours until I have to pull Luss back, so fucking pay attention, got it?”

Harry nodded sharply at his mentor.

_I won’t let you down._

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Lussuria, Harry had found, was an absolute _riot_ to have in the Dursley house.

To bigoted, small minded people like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, having the flamboyant, effeminate male with his ear length green hair, piercings, and flirtatious attitude prancing around their house in all manner of dress was a special kind of torture.

Harry wondered what it said about _him_ when he enjoyed his relative’s suffering _immensely._

It hadn’t always been smooth sailing, however.

It had actually been pretty tough for the first week or so after he’d gotten home because he and Lussuria _hadn’t_ gotten along. 

Harry found out later, that apparently the Xanxus that unfroze was kind of different from the man he’d been before he’d gotten his ass frozen, and the Varia elite were laying the blame for that on Harry’s shoulders.  When Harry _finally_ blew up at Luss- he lashed out with a punch and had gotten his ass handed back to him with a pretty bow tied around it as a result- he threw absolutely _everything_ that Xanxus had ever taught him at the Varia Sun in order to land a single, solid blow on the other male.

After the scuffle ended Luss had smiled in a way that finally reached his eyes, patched Harry up, and called up the other Varia members to inform them in a disturbingly chirpy voice that, _no_ , their Boss hadn’t gone spineless and the ‘shitty brat’ was worth their attention.

Hogwarts had let out the second week of June this year, and Luss managed to stay until a week before Harry’s birthday before Squalo had called and told Luss that they needed him back in Italy _yesterday._

Seeing as how Aunt Marge had showed up the previous week and been sent running back home with her tail between her legs, Harry was quite satisfied with how his summer had progressed.

“I’m really sorry, hun.”  Luss fussed aloud as he was shoving his gear into his bag. “They are mailing you a phone that will work around magic and it should be here next week- Xanxus called in a no questions asked favor from Verde to get it made, apparently- and you charge it with Flames, just like mine.  What else?  Oh!  I left _all_ the numbers in the pocket of your favorite jeans- text all of us, especially me!- but burn the paper when they’re all in your phone.  Dammit, there is something I’m- _oh_! Remind me to give the trash that you live with a _refresher course_ before I leave so that they don’t _accidentally_ forget who is _charge_ in this house, okay?”

Harry smiled at the man who had become something between a brother, a sister, and a mother to him over the past five weeks. “I will Luss, thank you.”

Luss twirled around, hands on his hips as he grinned down at the young man, “No problem, dearest!  Study hard so you can take those silly tests early and come home to us, ok?”

Harry’s eyes watered a little against his will as he stubbornly pushed back the _stupidly happy_ feeling in his chest at that thought.  “I’ll study my hardest, Luss.”

Luss leaned forward and stuck his tongue out at the teen. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Harry blushed to the tips of his ears. “I’ll study my hardest, _sorella_.”  He murmured shyly, ducking his head a little as his blush crept up from his neck and onto his rapidly-darkening cheeks.

Lussuria positively _shrieked_ with delight and snatched Harry off the bed to twirl him around in a ridiculous-dance-hug-thing.

_Yeah._ Harry thought contentedly as he wrapped his arms around the other; his fingers curling into the back of the soft, expensive fabric of Luss’ shirt.  Harry leaned his head forward to rest against the man’s warm shoulder, greedily drinking in the sense of comfort and warmth and family that the man freely offered him.  T _his is way better than fake warmth._

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	3. Chapter 3

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** Chapter Three **

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Truthfully, Harry had pushed his body a lot further than he probably _should_ have in an attempt to keep himself from wallowing in pity.  Harry couldn’t help it though.  He had already been viscerally aware of the Xanxus sized hole in his life, but Lussuria had filled that space and more with his brilliant warmth, teasing grins, and constant stream of chatter.  Now that the green-haired man had returned to Italy, Harry’s ridiculously lavish bedroom seemed horribly empty.

Even still, strange things were happening around here.

In the early morning light the morning after Luss had left- after locking his room with his Flame key; and how _cool_ was that?  He could lock himself in his room and his relatives couldn’t bother him and he could lock the door when he left so they couldn’t snoop!-  he’d absently walked into the kitchen to grab breakfast, not even paying attention.  So his head had jerked up in alarm when he heard his Aunt Petunia _shriek_ and watched as she dropped the plate she’d been holding, but Harry barely heard the porcelain shatter on the floor as his gaze was locked on to the terrified expression on his Aunt’s face.

Petunia had gone _bloodless_ , her lips pressed together in a firm line, and her hands trembling as she clasped them together in front of her as if in a gesture of prayer.

Harry just stood there for a moment, remembering all the times that he, _as a child,_ had worn that expression on his face for similar infractions.  Trembling as he waited for the harsh smack to his head, or for the caustic words to spill from her- now trembling- lips about his parents, or even for the rough grab of spindly, uncaring fingers as he was tossed- _like unsightly garbage_ \- into the darkness of his cupboard.

Because he’d been nearly nine before he’d been tall enough to reach the chain for the light.

For an endless moment these dark memories swirled through his mind, creating a vacuum out of the colors, sounds, and sights around him- all of it falling away leaving only him and his childhood tormentor, darkening his eyes with malicious intent.  Intent which made his aunt tremble even harder and press back against the counter behind her, even as he opened his mouth to tell her _exactly how he felt now that he was the one with all the power._  Harry took a step forward to pay her back for the _kindness_ that she had shown him-

Then, something inside him _gave way._ Harry could see his memories of Lussuria dancing before his eyes, followed closely by the memories of Xanxus, and then even ones of Ron and Hermione when they’d been his _friends_.  His thoughts circled back to Hagrid and his butt-imprinted cake, and the vaguest impressions of loving, laughing voices and safety-

-then he was back in the kitchen, with his _terrified_ aunt and suddenly there were once again colors, and sounds, and the familiar sights of the house that he had grown up in.  The words that flowed out of his mouth were much different than what he’d originally planned.  “I was left in your care and you tormented me.  A _child_.  Your _baby sister’s_ child.  You’re scared _now_ because people in a position of power are _threatening_ you to be a _decent human being_ to me.  There’s so much I could do to you and yours- a lot that I probably _should do._ ”  His voice held all the shades of anguish that he was feeling- _raw_ and _low_ and _rough_ \- even as his tone was deceptively soft.

Harry took a deep breath and stared deeply into his Aunt’s eyes, his body language easily conveying his struggle to keep himself together.  “And, I imagine- given what I’ve seen and heard in this house over the years- that if I were _a Dursley_ I would use my newfound power to make your lives _a living fucking hell_ , without a second thought, like any _normal_ person would do.”  He relished his aunt’s flinch as she brought a curled fist up to her chest and whimpered lowly.

“Fortunately for _you_ , I’m not a Dursley, I’m a _Potter_.  So, as long as you and yours follow the rules that Luss _reminded_ you of, I won’t have any cause to disrupt your _nice, normal family_ , Petunia Dursley.”  Harry spun on his heel and stalked out of the room, pausing at the door to toss back one last comment.  “I hope, Mrs. Dursley, that when your time comes, you can look my mother in the eye, because we _both_ know that regardless of her feelings for you, Lily Evans-Potter would have loved Dudley like her _own_ if your positions had been reversed.”

Harry walked out of the house without another word or backwards glance.

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After grabbing a quick bite to eat at one of the local stores and walking around just long enough to warm up his muscles and let his food settle, Harry set himself up for a nice, long jog.

_{“Listen up, shitty brat, when you have one of those ‘defining fucking moments’ and you need to clear your fucking head because you fucking forget which way is fucking up, sitting still is your worst enemy.  Go find a place to be a-fucking-lone, and push all that shit out of your mind and fucking put your body through the fucking gauntlet until you feel your fucking muscles scream, then keep fucking moving- walk slow if you fucking have to- but keep fucking moving and at that point- and only then- let yourself think, it’ll make things a lot fucking easier.”}_

So, Harry did.  He ran and ran and _ran_ until he really thought his legs were about to fall off and his lungs were on the verge of giving up before he allowed himself to slow down to a walk.

Granted, he’d only been running for about two hours, but he was proud of his progress- there was _no way_ he’d been able to do that last summer.

As he walked, Harry thought about his confrontation with his Au- _no_ , with _Mrs. Dursley_ that morning.  ‘ _She might be a part of my mother’s blood family’,_ he thought as he tried to control his breathing, ‘ _but they’re not my Family’._

A nudge from his intuition made him snap his head up towards the bushes that lined the path that he’d been running.  He had been utilizing the jogging trails that twisted their way through the suburban area’s landscape, so he was currently near a fairly secluded copse of trees.  It took a few moments but his eyes rather quickly alighted on the form of a rather huge, scraggly black Irish Wolfhound that was watching him with mournful grey eyes.  The dog tensed when it saw Harry watching it- and Harry’s intuition wasn’t making any sense to him at the moment- but apparently this animal was _important_.  

“Hey there, buddy-”  Harry said in the most soothing voice he could manage as he crouched down and held out an open palm to the animal.  “-you look like you’re had a bit of a rough ordeal.”

For a few tense minutes, boy and animal simply stared at each other, and Harry silently held on to the hope that his intuition hadn’t chosen _now_ of all times to go barmy on him.  Then, slowly, the poor creature- male, he noted absently-  limped towards him.  Once the dog had crept close enough he shoved his nose into the boy’s offered palm.  Being sure to telegraph his movements, Harry slowly lifted his other hand to rub at the dog’s nasty, matted fur.   “Let’s get you something to eat, and then find someplace to give you a bath, alright boy.”

The dog gave a raspy bark and Harry’s intuition _purred._

It didn’t take long for boy and dog to make it back to one of the small parks that all the trails wound through.  Since his intuition seemed to think that this was a _smart_ dog, Harry told the animal to _stay there_ while he went to a corner store to grab some dog food.

He was only marginally surprised when the dog had immediately lay down and rested his head on his paws.

So, a quick trip to the store for some ‘sensitive stomach’ dog food, a few bottles of water, and a filched take-out container later, Harry hurried back to the clearing and was pleased to see the animal waiting for him, doggy tail wagging wildly with happiness.

Harry had been sure to use the credit card that Xanxus had given him before the man had left- with implicit instructions for Harry to _fucking use it_.  Harry hadn’t had _any_ intentions of doing so- he had his freaking pride after all- but Lussuria had later explained that by _using_ the card Harry was allowing the Varia to help take care of him. To _not_ use it, when they were already limited in what they could do to help the kid who freed their Boss, was akin to telling them that Xanxus was insignificant.   It was also a subtle way for Xanxus to show that Harry was one of them, Lussuria had gone on to explain, a bold statement for Xanxus to make considering Harry was not yet Quality.

“Here you go boy. “ Harry said, setting down the bowl that he’d prepared, and the dog fairly _leapt_ at the food.  “I know it’s probably not very appetizing, but they told me that if you’ve been starved to dilute it with water and wait a while in between bowls so that you don’t get sick.”

The dog didn’t seem inclined to respond, too busy eating, but Harry had the strangest feeling that the animal not only heard, but understood him.  “I also found out that there’s a grooming place about a twenty minute walk away.  The store owner called the lady who runs it, and she said that she’d get you fit in today, so we’ll head that direction, and I’ll leave you there while I go shower, but I’ll come back okay?”

The dog looked up from the now-empty bowl and whined pitifully.

“Hey, it’s alright, boy.  I’ll come back, and you _really_ need to be cleaned.”  Harry grimaced lightly as he carefully assessed the state the dog’s fur was in.  “You’re not looking too hot and I’m sure it makes you feel even worse to have your fur all knotted up like that.”

The dog padded over and laid its furry head on Harry’s lap, looking up at the boy with soulful eyes, “It won’t be that bad, c’mon.”  Harry ran rather reluctant hand- the dog was really, raelly grimy and Harry was a little apprehensive about what ickyness could be hiding under those mats- gently over the animal’s head.  “Hmmm, you need a name.”

The dog barked, jumping up and chasing its tail, before sitting back on its haunches and raising a paw, and letting out a canine whine.

“Paws?”  Harry guessed curiously, a suspicion as to what the dog was entering his mind.  The dog barked and shook his head so Harry left the thought alone for now.  “No, hm, well, those are the pads-

 _Woof_!

“Pads?  Paddy?  Padfeet?  Padfoot?”

 _Woof_!

Harry chuckled at his new canine companion. “Alright, Padfoot it is, c’mon boy, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

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Harry had needed to do a lot of fast talking, but he’d managed to convince Padfoot to come back to Number Four with him.  The dog gotten more skittish and panicky the closer that they’d gotten to the house, but once they had made it to Harry’s room, the animal had seemed to relax.

Fortunately, Harry’s Flame key only required the barest touch of Flame, so he didn’t have to scare the poor animal.  “Well-” he said in bemusement as the dog stood frozen just passed the threshold of the room.  “-this is my room.”

The dog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, seemingly in doggy shock.  Harry chuckled and gently nudged the animal over so he could shut and lock the door behind them.

Harry could totally understand the sentiment, though.  When he’d actually looked around after his breakdown- that he was never going to remember again, _thank you very much_ \- he had been _flabbergasted_ by the modifications that his room had undergone.  Done in bright hues of red and gold, but in much less abrasive tones than Gryffindor Tower, the room had plush carpeting, a full-sized canopy-styled bed with luxurious sheets, and an ensuite bathroom.

The magnificent window was his favorite part- Hedwig’s too.

He honestly had no idea how the Varia contractors had made his tiny room seem like a luxury mini-apartment, but he wanted to send them all Christmas cards this year.

So, yeah, he could understand the dog’s amazement.  He gently shepherded the animal further into the room and plopped down onto his gloriously comfy bed.  “So-”  He said lightly, staring up at the bed canopy. “-you’re not a normal dog are you?”

The animal yelped and fell off the bed, scrambling into a defensive position.  “Look, my instincts are telling me that you’re not here to hurt me, so I’m choosing to follow that.  I don’t know exactly how you’re different from normal dog, just that you _are_ \- and when you’re willing to part with your secrets, I’ll be here to listen.  For now though, I’ll feed you, keep you clean, and safe from whatever or whoever you’re running from.”

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Harry continued to train doggedly.   It was mostly stamina training, as he was now without an actual teacher being there to correct any form mistakes, and he only knew a few kata perfectly enough to be allowed to practice them alone- so, yay cardio!- and follow the dietary instructions that Lussuria had left for him for the remainder of the week leading up to his birthday.  Padfoot mostly stayed in his room, only going outside to do his doggy business, and when the animal wasn’t eating he tended to sleep.

Hedwig got along with the newest animal in their family though- going so far as to perch on the arm of the chair the dog liked to nap in and preening his fur- so Harry felt that he’d made the right decision in letting the strange animal stay.

Despite his lingering suspicions that the animal was- what had Professor McGonagall called it?, oh- an Animagus.

On his birthday his phone arrived in the mail, and Harry had been highly amused by the Dursley’s staunch avoidance of the package until he had come down to claim it.  One he had opened it, he had quickly followed the written instruction on how to program it and entered the phone numbers that Luss had left him into it and then used his Flames to get rid of the paper.  It was about the size of his palm with a plastic casing on the back and sides, with the screen taking up most of the front that the manual said was a touchscreen. 

Harry was very happy that he’d seen Lussuria’s phone and that the other man had showed him how to use it or Harry would have been _utterly_ lost.

As he had gotten into the habit of talking to the dog, he explained. “It’s my Flame phone.  You see I shared dreams with this guy named Xanxus for a year- turns out that the magical world isn’t the only hidden society on the planet.  There are these people who can use something called the Flames of the Dying Will, and most of them are involved in the mafia- though they started out as vigilantes in Italy and a resistance movement in France- but, anyways-“

Harry then, for the second time in his life, launched into his life story, and it was late into the evening, nearly dusk, before he caught up to the present.  Since this was his _second_ telling, Harry left out a lot of the details that he had originally told Xanxus, so it was a much more efficient version.  “So, anyways, kind of like the advancements of the wizarding world, technology in the mafia world is _way_ advanced, because they don’t have to work around the constant need for power sources.  Luss says that the world at large is about three decades behind where the mafia’s current average level of technological advancement is, so that is how I have this nifty touch screen phone even though the muggles won’t have them for quite a while yet.”

The dog whined beside Harry’s ear, as the animal had moved to rest his furry head on Harry’s shoulder as Harry was trying to figure out what all the pretty lights and button did.  Eventually Harry managed to send a text.

_―SB―Luss?―_

It was only a few moments later that he received a reply.

_―LS―Hadrian, darling!  You got your phone!  Did you know that it’s programmed to show your name as ‘Shitty Brat’? ―_

_I’m going to murder Xanxus._ Harry thought darkly as the dog huffed with what Harry highly suspected was doggy laughter near his ear.

_―SB―I’m not really surprised.  Punch the old fossil for me, will you?  Preferably in the face? ―_

_―LS―Hahaha!  I’ll try my best!  I’m on the job right now, sweetling, remember that Verde said that the wizards might be able to see your phone for what it is though, so be careful with it, alright?   Oh, and Happy Birthday, darling! ―_

_―SB―Be careful, Luss!  And thank you! ―_

Harry grinned stupidly at the device in his hands for a moment before finding Xanxus’ number.

_―SB―Hello, your fossilness. ―_

The reply came almost instantly.

_―XV―Fucking shitty assed brat!  Don’t make get out of this fucking chair and haul my ass over to England so I can properly remind you who’s the fucking Boss in this family!―_

_―SB―All power to the cook, so-Luss? ―_

_―XV―Shitty brat! ―_

Harry figured that he should stop antagonizing Xanxus because the man could hold a _grudge_ and Harry really wanted to live to see his twenties.

_―SB―Really, though, thanks.  I know I can’t use it all the time, but it’s nice to know that I can get a hold of you guys. ―_

_―XV―Yeah, well, be careful, it’s got a self-destruct rigged into it, so if one of those fucking trash wizards get a hold of it they can’t use it- but we’d have no way of getting you another one while you’re under that shitty old man’s watch, so be fucking careful.  Luss told you not to use it to make calls? ―_

_―SB―Yeah, he said that you don’t want people to be able to find me by my voice in case the Varia phones get bugged. ―_

_―XV―Damn fucking right.  Look, shitty brat, we’re all working double time over here, because my shitty old man can’t make up his fucking mind about shit, so I’ve gotta fucking go.  Watch out for that Black that’s been on the news, my gut tells me that there’s something fucking sideways about that situation, since the story and that it is going to have something to do with you.―_

_―SB―Mine too, be safe. ―_

_―XV―The fuck you think you’re talking to, shitty brat?  Oh, and welcome to fucking puberty. ―_

Harry let the screen go blank, infinitely cheered by the fact that he’d gotten to hear from Luss _and_ Xanxus on his birthday.  It was only then that he realized that Padfoot was staring at him critically, so Harry just looked back at the animal until the dog seemed to come to a decision, hopping off the bed and pawing at the door.

Harry gamely shadowed the dog, locking the door behind him, and following the animal out the backdoor of the house and a few blocks over to a small park that Dudley and his band of thugs hadn’t destroyed yet.  The dog led Harry behind a few trees and sat back on his haunches.

 _Don’t be scared._ The eyes of his companion seemed to plead.

Harry merely settled down at the base of a tree and observed as the animal that he’d shared his room with the last week twisted and morphed into a scraggly man clad in what was obviously a prisoner’s ragged uniform- shredded, faded, and nearly falling apart.  Since his intuition was still humming happily inside his chest he didn’t react negatively to seeing the face of the supposed mass-murderer now standing in front of him.

“Sirius Black, I presume?” Harry assumed neutrally, body relaxed, but ready to snap into motion at a moment’s notice.

The man looked down at him with wild, desperate eyes that held a weird mix of hope and longing, holding his palms out in front of his body in what seemed to be a wordless plea for understanding. “ _Harry._ ” The man breathed, a desperate sort of longing in his hoarse voice. “Harry please listen-I didn’t-I _never_ -“

“ _Calm down.”_ Harry said gently, unknowingly infusing his Will into his voice. “Calm down and explain.”

Black seemed to pull himself together and nodded sharply, reaching into his tattered uniform and pulling out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.  “It wasn’t me.  It was _Peter- that rat_ , and he’s right there, in your dorm, and I couldn’t-wouldn’t, I-I knew I _had_ to-“

“ _Sirius, calm down_.” Harry said, using the man’s first name as a way to reach through the panic and reaching forward to grasp the agitated man’s hands and tug him down to sit in front of him.  “Tell me what happened from the beginning.”

So, the man did.  The words flew out of the man’s mouth almost faster than Harry could follow. The story about a group of boys who became friends at eleven, then later brothers- family- and the war that set them against one another.  How they had fought together with _Headmaster Dumbledore_ as members of the vigilante organization the _Order of the Phoenix_ because Voldemort had all but _officially_ taken over the Ministry for Magic, and how this man- _his Godfather_ \- had begged his parents to use weak, unassuming Peter so that Sirius couldn’t be made- through torture or spell or potion- to betray his family.

Sirius Black _raged_ as he recounted that Halloween night, the grief still fresh in his mind and his heart, at seeing the his best friend- _his brother_ \- and his friend’s wife lifeless corpses in that cheery cottage in Godric’s Hollow.  How little baby Harry had been entrusted to Hagrid because not only did Peter need to _pay_ for his treachery, Peter _knew_ other secrets that would make Sirius unable to keep Harry safe.

So Sirius had pursued the man relentlessly, only to be neatly framed by his blood and his former friend.  How, after a few well-placed words from Peter caused Sirius to _shatter_ in his grief and fury- _absolutely no one_ had cared to hear what Sirius had to say because _everyone knew_ that his blood would _show itself eventually_.

How Minister Fudge had come by the _cage_ that they’d kept Sirius in for the past decade- and how Sirius had mocked the man, gaining the newspaper with the picture of the Weasley Family, the lucky Galleon Draw winners on the front- with the rat form of Peter Pettigrew prancing merrily about the younger boy’s shoulders.

Harry carefully controlled his fury as he looked at the broken mess of a man before him.  Sirius still held Harry’s hands, but his head was bowed and he was nearly convulsing with sobs, tears dripping from his eyes, as broken apologies spilled from his mouth. 

- _It’s all my fault, I asked them to change to Peter, it’s all my fault, I’m so sorry Harry, I killed them, it’s all my fault, I don’t deserve forgiveness-_  

Sirius had been tossed into the wizarding prison of Azkaban at the age of twenty-one, and these Dementors that Sirius described did not sound like they lent themselves to the mental stability of the prisoners.  “Sirius.”  Harry ground out in a tightly controlled voice, his intuition roaring within him, that this man was _innocent-_ and that meant that Harry had spent the past two years near the person who had condemned his parents to their deaths. “I need to tell Xanxus.”

Sirius jerked his head up to meet Harry’s sharp gaze. “Y-you believe me?”

Harry smiled gently at the broken man before him. “I’ve gotten the short end of the stick enough times in my life, especially since my introduction to the magical world, to understand that they’re got a few screws loose.  My gut is telling me that you’re being honest, and the whole story makes a disturbingly tragic amount of sense.  Xanxus will probably have about a trillion questions and give you the third degree, but _I_ believe you.”

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Harry sent Xanxus a text that night when he and Sirius- as Padfoot- returned to Number Four.  Sirius had mentioned that he didn’t have a magical core as Padfoot and apparently the Wards weren’t set to ward off animagi.

After being sent back to his prison because of the protection he Wards provided him, Harry was not sure if he was thankful or offended.

_―SB―Found Sirius Black.  Apparently he’s an animagus like Pro McG.  Thrown into Azkaban without so much as a by your leave and left to rot.  Says that Ron’s rat is actually a man named Peter Pettigrew, who cut off his own finger in order to frame Sirius for betraying my parents to Volde-trash.  Sirius is currently in his dog form in my room, has been for the last week.  Weasley family currently thought to be in Egypt, visiting the eldest son, according to the Daily Prophet that Sirius found.  Apparently when he turns into a dog he has no magical core and can be inside the Wards. ―_

Harry had expected a text or maybe a phone call on the Dursley’s landline.

He had most certainly _not_ expected the man to show up _in the flesh_ , less than six hours later to drag Harry and his canine companion out of the house.

Which was why- at the unholy hour of _five in the freaking morning-_ Harry and Padfoot found themselves back in the same clearing as the night before- accompanied by Xanxus, Squalo Superbi, and a tiny child named Esper Mammon.

 _“The trash with the sword and the long-ass fucking white hair is my second-in-command, shitty shark trash that he fucking is, and the tiny miser with the hood and the frog on his head is the Mist Arcobaleno, he can find anyone in the world by sneezing on paper, but he charges through the fucking nose_.”  As Xanxus had introduced the two impatiently.

Sirius changed back into- well, Sirius- and repeated his story.  The three Varia operatives grilled the man relentlessly, leaving no details untouched, well into actual morning.

Harry had long since slipped into a sort of semi-lucid state.  Trying to organize his thoughts and feelings about all the new information that had been dumped on him.  Distracted as he was, he barely dodged the swipe that Xanxus sent at him sometime later, when the sun had actually risen.

“The _hell_ , you old fossil!”  Harry yelped in surprise.

Xanxus growled, effortlessly caught him by the collar, and chucked him face-first in the grass and planting a booted foot on the boy’s head to keep him down. “I had to drop everything that I was fucking doing to hop on a plane to fucking England, to make sure that you weren’t going to get your fool fucking self _killed_ , shitty brat.”

“It wab the wizabs fult.”  Harry complained around his mouth full of grass.

“What was that, trash?” Xanxus snarled, grinding Harry’s face a little further into the grass before letting him up. “I couldn’t understand you from _way down there_ , shitty brat.”

Harry scrambled to his feet, trying to rub the taste of grass out of his mouth.  “I think I liked you better as a half-melted popsicle.”  He grumbled quietly, only to squeak rather embarrassingly when Xanxus grabbed him by the collar and hefted him into the air, red eyes promising _pain_ in the near future.  “I mean, you’re looking like the absolute _pinnacle_ of health, oh great and terrible leader of the Varia.”

“Better, shitty brat.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, his mouth had kind of run away with him.  There was no longer any ice to protect him from Xanxus’ wrath.

“But not good enough.”

_Oh fuck._

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It was a _significantly_ humbled Harry that stumbled through the backdoor of Number Four that afternoon- clothes torn, blood oozing from various cuts, and his entire body feeling like a series of intricately linked bruises.

After Xanxus had finished _beating him into the ground_ , the man had disappeared with Sirius and Esper Mammon, leaving Harry alone with Squalo Superbi- and the fight with Lussuria had repeated itself, just with a significant lack of mothering afterwards.

_Voi!  Not bad for a civilian raised kitten, we’ll whip you into proper shape in no time, kitty!_

When the others had reappeared- miraculously _right after_ Squalo had finished beating the crap out of him, suspicious that- he had been informed that Sirius would be going with the others back to Italy.

As a dog, naturally.

The plan was for Sirius to help them rat proof the dungeon at the main Varia Manor- because as with any good mafia Famiglia, they had two or three large homes scattered around Italy- even if the Varia was more of an elite unit than a Famiglia- as Esper wanted to make absolutely sure that the protections would hold for when they nabbed the rat.  The Weasley Patriarch’s penchant for ‘muggle’ things was leaving a paper trail, so Leviathan could confirm that the family hadn’t headed back towards England just yet.

Squalo had tugged Harry behind the group for a moment just before they left and told him that Esper would also be helping Sirius recover from the mental strain from Azkaban. 

“ _If there’s anyone who can pull your Godfather back from the brink of insanity that’s he’s flirting with, it’s Mammon, kitty.  “And we’ll make sure to express our extreme displeasure to the traitor scum once we have him in custody.””_   _The white haired swordsman had then ruffled Harry’s hair and sauntered back to the group without missing a beat._

 _‘I’d feel sorry for the poor bastard if I didn’t hate him so much.  The Varia despise traitors more than anything- he’s not going to have a pleasant stay in the dungeons of the Varia Manor_.’  Harry grinned happily to himself despite his exhaustion as he stripped and prepared to shower off the day’s grime.  ‘ _I’m glad I got to talk to Sirius before they left, though.  I was kind of worried that he’d be like all the other wizards that I’d met and judge me because of my Flames or my Family, but he just told me that he wants me to be happy, and if that means accepting all the mafia stuff, then so be it.  Apparently, they seem like his kind of people anyways.’_

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Harry received a text the next day.

―XV― _We made it._ ―

―SB― _Glad you’re all safe.  Got my school letter, it has a note that says I’m supposed to wait until next week so someone to come to escort me to get my supplies.  I think some teenage rebellion is in order.  They didn’t even say why I needed an escort._ ―

―XV― _Give the trash hell, shitty brat, but don’t be a fucking idiot_. ―

―SB― _Understood._ ―

Harry slipped out the backdoor early the next morning, shrunken trunk tucked securely under an arm as he walked beyond the point where Sirius had said that the wards ended, finding a private spot, and calling out quietly.  “Dobby?”

A quiet _pop_ sounded and a much improved Dobby the House Elf appeared.  The tiny being was wearing a modified tie-dyed sheet as clothes, with mismatched vibrant socks tucked into children’s sandals, and with a multicolored bandana wrapped his head. 

It was a rather cheerful sight, really.

“Employer Harry Potter, sir bes callings his Dobby?”

 _‘Well, it’s better than ‘Master Harry Potter, sir’ I guess.’_   “Yes, Dobby, I was wondering if you’d hold on to my trunk while I make my way to London.”

Dobby somehow managed to look both excited and scandalized at the same time.  “Well, of course Dobby cans bes doings thats!  But Dobby wonders whys Employer Harry Potter, sir, isn’t just bes _askings_ Dobby to takes hims to Londonsies.”

Harry blinked slowly.  “You can do that?”

Dobby nodded vigorously.  “Oh, yes, Employer Harry Potter sir!  It just bes taking magics from the master, so most peoples not bes thinkin’ abouts usings Elf magics.  Most witches and wizards not beings knowings that elves can bes doings its nows cause theys bes used to the Floos.”

It took a while to filter ‘Dobby Speak’ but Harry had had plenty of practice with ‘Xanxus Speak’ over the last year, so it didn’t take very long.  “Huh, magicals are _weird_.  How do we do this, Dobby?”

“Sir is beings takings Dobby’s hand.”

And with a quiet pop they disappeared, only to reappear in a secluded corner of Diagon Alley.

Harry could feel the drain it had caused his magic, but it wasn’t any worse than a normal day of spell casting at Hogwarts. “Thanks Dobby.”

“Employer Harry Potter sir is beings most welcomes.”

Before they parted ways- for Harry to head to the Bank and Dobby to head back to whatever he had been doing- Dobby had handed Harry several  vault keys.  “What are these?”  Harry asked somewhat dumbly.

“Theys are beings the vault keys from Bad Locksies.”

Harry gave the elf a puzzled look. “But I can’t be able to use these can I?  I mean, I’m not Lockhart and I’m certainly not on any of his accounts.”

Dobby shook his head.  “I’se not bes knowings how the muggly world bes doing things, but as long as Employer Harry Potter, sir, is havings the key he is being ables to get intos the vaultsies.  The Family vaults only opens to bloods and don’t haves keysies.”

Harry arched an eyebrow.  “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

Dobby looked sort of offended.  “No, Employer Harry Potter, sirs.”

Harry grinned conspiratorially at the tiny elf.  “Thanks Dobby.  You’re the _best_.”

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Lockhart had been _loaded_.  Then again, the ponce had trademarked his name, so Harry supposed he shouldn’t find that completely surprising.

Harry also found that he could leave keys inside a vault, but if he lost _that_ vault key or if another key was in circulation he’d just be screwed. 

That was fine with Harry, as he simply combined all of Lockhart’s various vaults into a new vault- it cost a decent amount, but Harry felt that it was better to be cautious, in case Lockhart had spare keys floating about- and then redirected the man’s ongoing profits from various projects into that Vault.  He did spend a few moments lamenting the fact that, with Lockhart’s brains being entirely scrambled, it was impossible to find the people who had accomplished the actual deeds the man had written about and compensate them.  Harry did ensure that Lockhart’s mother- his only family according to the man’s records- had plenty of money in her vault after all was said and done.  According to the man’s records Lockhart had not been taking proper care of his mother, which was positively _deplorable_ to Harry.  Just before he left he made sure to leave an updated set of standing orders pertaining to his Trust Vault before venturing out into the Alley.

Harry hadn’t remembered doing so, but his Hogwarts letter stated that he had picked three electives- Arithmancy, Runes, and Divination- for the upcoming year. 

Being his third time shopping for school supplies in the Alley, his shopping didn’t take an extraordinary amount of time- especially with the extra early start he had gotten thanks to Dobby’s interference.  Even after all the time he spent in the Bank.  Better yet, with his hair having grown out around his ears- it had started growing for the first time in _forever_ after his near-death-by-Basilisk- his faded scar, and his nice, casual clothes no one had recognized him.

After finishing up in the Alley, Harry had headed out to nonmagical London. He resisted the urge to use the money he’d had exchanged at the Bank and used the card Xanxus had given him to buy clothes.  Just like Luss had suggested he bought ones that fit and ones that were a size or two too big, they hadn’t had a chance to go shopping with the other man had been in England.  In short order he had purchased his necessities, and some school supplies-(lined notebooks and pens were wonderful for notes and pens were just plain _comfortable_ \- and stowed everything in his trunk, to be properly organized later.

So, it was a very happy Harry that made it back to Number Four that night.  Harry too great relish in writing a politly worded note to Professor McGonagall that basically said: ‘Thanks for the offer, but I went shopping already, and who is this Sirius Black person that everyone is talking about?’.  He sent the letter off with Hedwig, who he swore was _laughing_ as she nibbled at his hair affectionately before she launched herself out of the window, the letter neatly tied to her leg.

A week later he received another text.

―SS― _Exchange successful.  Rat in custody_.―

The rest of Harry’s summer was pretty quiet after that.

Oh, he’d gotten a sternly worded letter from his Head of House about following rules set forth for his own good.  There was another letter from the Headmaster asking him very nicely to stay near his relative’s house for the rest of the summer and informing him that one of the Professors would be by to escort Harry to King’s Cross on September 1st. 

Harry, of course, proceeded to do exactly as he’d _been_ doing.  Exercising, eating, sleeping, studying the _bullshit_ worksheets that Xanxus had been sending him through the _mail_ , studying his Hogwarts books, texting the Varia members that he’d met so far, and cheerfully ignoring the existence of the other people in the house.

Harry had never found out what Luss or Xanxus had said to Dudley, but even the teenage Dursley hadn’t bothered him all summer.

So, it came to pass that September 1st dawned bright and early, and Harry Potter could be found seated on the front porch of Number Four, calmly sipping a bottle of iced tea and steadily working his way through a book written entirely in Italian.  He could actually read Italian and French fairly decently at this point, but he was still pretty shaky at speaking them, because he had no one to practice with while waiting for his escort to arrive.

His owl cage was in his trunk as Hedwig was resting in a nearby tree, waiting for him to leave to so she could fly herself to Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall appeared on the sidewalk with a quiet _crack_ a few minutes after ten.

”Good morning, Professor.”  Harry greeted brightly as he smoothly rose to his feet, grabbing his shrunken trunk, book, and tea, and quickly trotting over to her.

She nodded sharply at him after giving him an approving once-over.  “Good morning, Mr. Potter.  Are you ready to leave, then?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take my arm then, we shall be _Side-Long_ _Apparating_ to the station.  We don’t have time to dally.”

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They arrived at the station and the Professor saw him through the barrier before departing. 

Thankfully, it was still quite early, so Harry had no trouble finding an unoccupied compartment and claiming it for his own.  Once his things were safely stowed for the journey, he promptly immersed himself back into his book; his back pressed comfortably against the inside, padded wall of the compartment and his legs stretched out across the length of the bench.

The station gradually started to grow noisy as more and more families began to arrive, but it was all background noise to Harry who had cast a silencing charm on the window and door. Sirius had told him that as long as he was on the Platform and it was after ten in the morning on the first, he was able to do magic while they had been waiting for the Varia to finalize the plan for smuggling Sirius out of the country.  Harry would have cast a locking charm, but the compartment doors were specifically charmed to _not_ lock so that the Prefects could check each compartment.

There was a quiet knock on the door.  “Come in.”

The door opened and Harry glanced up to see that it was one of his Slytherin classmates. “Do you mind if I sit here?” The dark-skinned Slytherin asked in a cultured drawl.

Harry shook his head, his intuition wasn’t reacting so he saw no reason to be rude. “Help yourself as long as you don’t mind me reading.”

The boy grinned at him. “Not at all.” He replied swishing his wand and depositing his trunk into the overhead rack, with Harry’s own trunk that he’d returned to normal size.  From there the other boy settled into the bench across from Harry and pulled out his own book.

When the train pulled out of the station at eleven sharp, both young men were happily absorbed in their respective pieces of literature.  It was just after the trolley lady passed by and they had grabbed some snacks that the amiable silence was broken.

“Zabini.”

“Hmm?”  Harry said, tearing his eyes away from his book to look at the other.

“My name.  It’s Zabini.”

Harry grinned at his unexpected companion. “I’d introduce myself, but my _glorious_ reputation seems to precede me.”  The other boy let out a light laugh, and Harry continued blithely, suddenly chatty after nearly a month of having no one to talk to. “Though, my self-appointed older brother- well, sister; he prefers female terms of endearment, but doesn’t mind ‘he’ and ‘him’ and all that otherwise- recently told me that my name is his native tongue is ‘Adriano’, so he’s been calling me ‘Adi’.”

Zabini’s eyes sharpened as he stared hard at Harry. “You have a self-appointed older bro-sister who was born in _Italia_?”

Harry grimaced at his slip.  ‘ _Xanxus is going to kill me.’_  “Yeah, and if you could _not_ spread that around, that’d be _great._ ”

The tension seemed to mount for the next few minutes before the other shrugged carelessly, settling back to read his book. “Whatever, _Adi_.”

Harry grinned. “Keep calling me that and I’ll call you _Blaise_ , you great prat.”

He received an amused snort in response.

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Blaise Zabini was a quiet young man with mocha toned skin and an incredibly sharp mind. 

Blaise’s mother was an uncommonly beautiful woman who had been born as a result of an alliance between a pureblooded but somewhat poor British family, and a pureblooded- but suspected of having Veela blood- family from France that still held a substantial amount of property there.  His father had been the first Zabini in three generations to study at Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons or one of the smaller Italian schools, and it was there that the man had met his _Mamma_.

Blaise’s mother, for all that had transpired between mother and son at this point in his life, had actually been quite good to him until around the age of five, when he truly started to show that he was his father’s son.  His nanny, Mariá, had told him stories- once he was old enough to understand to not repeat everything he heard- of his parents.  Of how his _Mamma_ had loved his father more than _anything_ , with the kind of desperation that people write epic stories about, and how his _Papá_ had loved her just as desperately in return. 

Italy didn’t have all the thoughts of blood purity that the Dark Lord Voldemort had championed- _Italia_ actually had more than one enclave of Sirens and other typically sea-faring magical beings and thus were rather accepting of non-humans.  However when the _monster_ had threatened Blaise’s _Mamma_ his father- having no real opinion on the matter, according to Mariá,  but who had not had any particularly warm, fuzzy feeling towards the leader of opposing faction- had joined the rank of the Death Eaters to keep his wife and child out of the line of fire.

In the end it was the Order of the Phoenix’s refusal to use non-lethal force that had cemented Blaise’s dislike for the followers of Albus Dumbledore.  It was not that his Papa had died that made Blaise hate the Light, it was _how_.

During the Blood War the fighters who united under the banner of Albus Dumbledore refused to use spells that could result in the death of their opponent.  While this approach to warfare would seem kind on the surface, the fighters had a tendency to do things like stun an opponent and leave them wherever they fell.  So if say, _half a building_ were to fall on that person as a result of an overpowered banishing charm, the stunning spell would prevent the natural, instant death from occurring to the person trapped below the rubble.  Instead the spell would prolong the suffering of the poor soul as the magic slowly worse off, offering an excruciatingly slow, agonizing death.

That was what had happened to Gavino Zabini.  It was what had happened to a lot of the Dark Lord’s supporters.  The Dark Lord’s supporters could be divided cleanly between the majority who used lethal but efficient spells and those who honestly reveled in human suffering. The Light side supporters tended to be ridiculously creative and imaginative in fulfilling their leader’s ‘no killing’ rule. 

In the end, if one were to actually _dig_ through the misinformation and disinformation, both sides lost about the same amount of lives overall, but the Order had actually caused _more_ tortuous, excruciating deaths than the Death Eaters. 

But, of course, no one ever talked about _that_.

So, by the time his Hogwarts letter had arrived, Blaise had already been more than a little annoyed at the idea of sharing seven years of his education with ‘Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived’.

Blaise had been sorted into Slytherin House upon his arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and hadn’t thought much of the tiny, rag wearing Harry Potter.  The boy’s conduct throughout the year had not exactly improved Blaise’s overall opinion of him.  The little runt running around with Weasley and Granger in their little misadventures when it was obvious that Potter didn’t really have his own opinion on matters.  With Potter acting almost like an attention-starved pet- this behavior had been the base of more than a few jokes within the Slytherin common room.  Potter really hadn’t paid attention to anyone beyond his extremely tiny clique of friends, so he had been thought of as rude and obnoxious.

Or, at least, that was what Blaise had _thought_ he had known about Harry Potter.

Blaise had noticed that something was different about Potter the moment that he had laid eyes on the boy at the beginning of Second Year.  The clothes he wore, the way he talked, the look in his eyes, the way he reacted to everyone around him.

Harry Potter no longer acted like an attention starved child seeking to please whoever would grant him the slightest bit of affection.

Then came that class where he had had to bring Potter back down to reality and the boy had made that statement.

_“Fuck this noise.  Fuck the fucking shit out of this noise.”_

Such an _odd_ thing for the Golden Boy to say.

Blaise had observed how the boy’s entire House had subtly, but publically shunned him, categorically inviting the other Houses to follow their example.  Watched as Potter would ‘accidentally’ get knocked down or ‘pranked’, only to get back up again and _push forward_.  How Potter would walk past the people who were talking about him, his family- _everything sacred_ \- and Potter would just give them an entirely unimpressed glance and continue on his way.  Saw how even _Professor Snape_ couldn’t even penetrate the steely resolve that Potter had wrapped himself in- and the Professor had been _trying,_ even harder than usual.

Potter had been entirely isolated, spit on, counted out, and had had an entire school just waiting for the tiniest crack to appear in his armor so they could gleefully shatter him.

Then the petrifications had started and things got _worse_ for the boy.  But Potter pressed on like it didn’t even phase him, even when the boy couldn’t go anywhere without a pack of naysayers stalking his every move, looking for ‘Dark Lord Behavior’.

Because as smart as she was, Hermione Granger was still just a young girl who wanted to be accepted by her peers.  She had resisted at first, but as the year went on and Potter continue to ignore her ‘advice’ and people started flocking to her to ask her opinion about the friend that she had clearly been fighting with since before the start of the school year.  Well, Granger was not a saint and eventually she had fallen to the novel idea of being _popular_.  To have people listen to her and look to her for guidance.  Knowledge was Granger’s strength and her vice; and while she was a person with a good heart- even Blaise could admit that, even if only to himself- even she could be petty.

Weasley didn’t even have to be asked, he had been harping on Potter since the idiot had flown a flying car into the Whomping Willow and broke his wand.

Potter soldiered on, however, obviously lonely to those who bothered to look, but unyielding.  Then the baby Weasley had been taken and the school had been put on lockdown.

When the lockdown was over, the Weasley family had quietly withdrawn for the year.  But the Weasley twins had sent letters back to the people that they were acquainted with from each House, describing how Harry Potter had saved their little sister from a _Basilisk_ even after they had been so incredibly _foul_ towards him all year.

This had caused quite a stir.  There were more than a few people who had wanted to pin Potter down and get the story- because the twins didn’t actually know what happened other than Lockhart being a fraud and causing a cave in, and Potter having to go forward to face the beast alone- but no one could ever actually _find_ him outside of classes.  It was only then that most realized that Potter had ceased taking regular meals in the Great Hall before _Christmas_.

Potter had slipped through the castle like a ghost until the end of term and had caused the Prefects collective heart attacks when they couldn’t find him on the train.  There had only been rumors over the summer of someone catching a glimpse of him slipping through the Barrier and disappearing into the nonmagical side of the station.

And now, before him, the boy was reading a book that was written in _formal Italian_ , claiming to have a ‘self-appointed older sister’ who was an _Italia_ native.

Just what in the hell was going on with Harry Potter?

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Dark had fallen, but they weren’t yet to Hogsmeade when the train came to a screeching halt.  The lights stuttered pathetically before they died out, and ice started to form over the windows and doors of the compartment.

Harry’s intuition had already been twisting in nervous agitation for the better part of two hours at that point, so he couldn’t honestly claim to be surprised.  He flicked a bemused glance towards Zabini. “Wands out?”  He asked brightly, giving the other a dazzling smile that he hoped conveyed his _extreme amounts of appreciation_ for this particular situation.

Zabini huffed a laugh.  “Yes, Potter, as I have now realized the folly in sitting near you.  Your luck is truly _abysmal_.”

Harry was so startled at hearing Zabini make a joke, he accidentally released an honest laugh.  “Now, now, who has been spreading truths about me?”  He muttered wryly as he and Zabini moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder facing the compartment door, wands out and at the ready.

Harry’s intuition was _shrieking_ by this point, a jumbled mass of warnings.  Almost as badly as it had shrieked about the cursed diary.

The door handle rattled ominously and an overwhelming feeling of despair cut off any further banter.

Harry’s fingers gripped tighter to his wand, even as his arm began to shake as all the life in his body seemed to slowly drain out of him, leaving ice in his veins.  ‘ _Dementors.  The inhuman guards of Azkaban.’_   He realized with a feeling of absolute dread as the door slowly crept open and his wand slipped from his nerveless fingers.  

The creatures enshrouded in tattered black, rotting cloaks gliding closer to the two young men.  The inhuman beings reaching skeletal fingers towards them in menacing solicitation as harsh, grating, rattling breaths could be heard from beneath their cowls.

 _‘Who is screaming?  Is it Zabini?_ ’  Harry wondered absently as time seemed to slow and he began to slowly fall forward.  _‘ Why is it so cold?’_

― _Not Harry!  Not Harry!  Please not my baby!  Take me instead!_ ―

― _Lily!  Lily it’s him!  Take Harry and run!_ ―

― _My baby!  What did you do to my baby!_ ―

― ** _Shitty brat!_** ―

That last one snapped Harry out of his despair induced trance, as blessedly familiar fire surged through his body.  Absently he noted Zabini’s trembling arm valiantly attempting to hold him up even as the other leaned against Harry like a lifeline.  The two standing together, defiant even in a seemingly hopeless situation, just felt right though.  Something about Zabini helped give Harry the strength he needed and supported Harry in pushing back against the dank mist of misery that tried to take over his mind.  Inch by metaphoric inch Harry took back control, the fire that was familiar as his own name intensifying exponentially as his Will rebounded from out of the depths of despair.  Harry thought of Sirius- innocent, broken Sirius who had spent a decade with these wretched things- and something inside of him snapped.

‘ _You tormented my Godfather for over a decade, you useless. Fucking. Trash.’_  

Harry didn’t even stop to _think_ as he stepped forward.  Answering his call his bright, dazzling Flames sprang to life on his hands and he _lunged_.  Harry ignored the sudden screeching creature as his Flames eagerly acted on his Will and _disintegrated_ everything they touched, quickly spreading to the fiend’s partner and affording it the same treatment.

Harry’s last thought as he passed out was that of triumph.  ‘ _I fucking win, trash_.’

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Harry woke up to the somewhat familiar scents of Madam Pomfrey’s domain.

He had not actually spent a lot of time in here since First Year, but the smell was unmistakable.  It was also morning, judging by the position of the sun, and Harry was suddenly reminded that he had been saving up room in his stomach to enjoy the feast, which he had most likely missed.

“Ah, Mr. Potter.”  The voice of the Hospital Matron rang through the previously silent room the moment he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been run over by the Express, honestly.”  Harry replied rather hoarsely as he struggled to sit up properly, amazed at just how sore he was even if his muscles were not all that stiff.

The woman gave him a mildly startled look, and Harry suddenly realized that she hadn’t really seen him since Xanxus had barged his way into his life.  He had been in the process of scrambling together an acceptable apology when she suddenly smiled warmly at him.

“Well, I must say that that is a much better answer than the usual ‘fine’ that you try to sell me.”  Poppy informed the boy primly, settling her hand on her hips and fixing him with a stern look.  “You’re free to go, it’s just before breakfast on the 2nd.  Do try to stay out of my domain?”

Harry gave her a roguish grin that reminded her rather sharply of James Potter.  Poppy watched rather warily as the young teen swiped his glasses and wand from the bedside before sweeping towards her.  With one hand held over his heart, the other held out towards her, and mischief swirling in his eyes, Harry answered her with a broad smile.   “I make no promises, my dearest lady, for your fairness is so grand that I simply-“

“Out!”  The rather nostalgic Matron shooed him with a grin.  “Out of my Infirmary you scamp!”

“As the fair lady way wishes!”  Harry laughed as he danced around her shooing hands and made his escape.

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Harry made it back to the dorm just as one of the upper years was coming out, so he fortunately could get into the Tower.  It was early yet, but a quick shower and change of clothes saw him heading for the Great Hall in search of breakfast.  Professor McGonagall was already there and she passed him his schedule.  “Alright, Mr. Potter?”

Harry smiled charmingly at her.  “Yes, Professor.  What were those things?  What happened?”

“They were Dementors, Mr. Potter.  The guards of Azkaban, searching for Sirius Black, who escaped some weeks back.  They will be stationed around the grounds all year, so there are extra restrictions being placed on the student body; I trust you will follow them?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall.” 

McGonagall gave him a flat look that just _screamed_ that she knew he was lying.

Harry _was_ , of course, but he sulked a little bit on the inside at being so transparent.

“Ah, Harry, m’boy!  Good to see you up and about!”  The cheery voice of the Headmaster cut through the quiet early morning air easily.

“Good morning, Headmaster.” 

“Good morning, Albus.”

Dumbledore smiled down at Harry from beneath his bushy mustache.  “Young Mr. Zabini was able to tell us about the rather astonishing case of accidental magic that you had.  It seems that your mother’s protection is still quite strong on you as well, my dear boy.  Nonetheless, the Dementors seem particularly intent upon you, so do try to stay out of trouble this year, hm?”

Harry smiled benignly at the eccentric old man.  “Headmaster, I think trouble finds me, making things the _other_ way around, but I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Excellent!”  The Headmaster replied jovially, his blue eyes bright behind his half-moon spectacles.  “Well, we will leave you to your breakfast- I do suggest some chocolate, however, as it will help a great deal with any lingering effects from your encounter with the Dementor.  I, myself, have a rather fetching lemon pancake awaiting me at the Head Table.  Shall we, Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes, enjoy your day, Mr. Potter.”

“I will, thank you Professors.”  Harry said as McGonagall took the Headmaster’s proffered arm with an exasperated sort of fondness and allowed herself to be lead away.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and as there was no classes today Harry quickly made himself scarce.  He just _knew_ that the school had heard about the Dementor incident and would be breathing down his neck about it.

He had just made it to the Seventh Floor when his instincts prickled and he twirled gracefully away from whoever was trying to come up from his blind spot.  “ _Zabini_?  Bloody _hell_ , mate!”

“You owe me a fucking explanation, Potter!”  Blaise Zabini seethed angrily, his fists clenched at his sides.  “I _know_ what I saw and I fucking covered for you, so _you owe me_ unless you want to deal with the _alternatives_.  Like accusations of practicing _Dark Magic_.”

Harry stared at the other boy in bewilderment, feeling slightly betrayed that his intuition hadn’t warned him that Zabini was a danger.  At the same time he scrambled desperately to salvage the situation, because _dammit_ , he’d enjoyed Zabini’s quiet companionship. “I don’t know what you-“

Zabini moved closer, grabbing a fistful of Harry’s robes and pulled the other boy close enough for their breaths to mingle.  “How the _fuck_ do you have the Dying Will Flames, Golden Boy?”

 _‘Xanxus is going to fucking kill me.’_ Harry thought with no little amount of trepidation.

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	4. Chapter 4

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** Chapter Four **

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_‘Xanxus is going to fucking kill me.’_

Zabini was taller than Harry.  Even with the good nutrition that he’d enjoyed for that last year of his life and Lussuria’s interventions, Harry had been told, and accepted, that he was always going to be shorter than he would have been otherwise.  The other boy had his hands fisted in the front of Harry’s shirt and was pulling Harry towards him, forcing Harry to rest his hands on Zabini’s waist just to keep his balance.

It made the scene uncomfortably intimate, which was _not_ helping Harry think.

Damn Xanxus and his gleeful ‘talk’.  Harry thought sourly as he searched his captor’s eyes for answers to this predicament. 

Though, to be fair Lussuria had also waxed poetic about different sorts of sexual orientations and such.  Harry had been surprised to learn that even though Lussuria enjoyed female pronouns and flirting with everything even _remotely_ human, the man was actually asexual- as in entirely uninterested in having sexual relations with _anyone_.  Lussuria had blithely explained- while fluttering around the Dursley kitchen making breakfast, with Aunt Petunia whimpering at the dining room table, no doubt equally horrified at both the mess Luss had been making and the topic of conversation- that he felt a moderate amount of sexual attraction he just all-over cringed at the idea of ever acting on it with another person.

Apparently one person early on in Lussuria’s Varia career had made a crass remark about the man’s orientation being ‘unnatural’ or ‘false’ and had snidely commented that maybe it was simply ‘living beings’ that Luss did not feel comfortable engaging in sexual acts with.

Lussuria had killed the man, but the Varia joke had lived on.

“Look, can we get out of the open to talk about this?” Harry asked after a few moments, shaking free of his wandering thoughts and not really wanting to start a fight in the hallway.  A commotion would attract people; which was the exact opposite of how Harry wanted to start his year.  Not to mention if it came down to fisticuffs then he would have to explain where he learned to fight and _when_ \- because Harry would give as good as he got- which would cause him to be the focus of all manner of unwanted additional scrutiny.

Zabini nodded stiffly, releasing Harry’s collar only to immediately grab Harry’s arm just above the elbow in a firm grip that caused Harry to have to hold his arm awkwardly.  Zabini spun Harry around to walk slightly in front of him.  

“Lead the way.” Zabini said tersely.

So, Harry did.  Immeasurably thankful that this section of the floor didn’t actually have any portraits as he led the way to a familiar section of wall.  “I have to pace back and forth in front of this three times for the door to appear.” He explained, not particularly surprised when Zabini didn’t let him go and merely paced with him. 

The door appeared and they both slipped quickly inside, Harry quickly asking the Room to bar the door behind them.

Zabini, seemingly content that Harry wouldn’t try to flee now that they were locked inside the Room, released the younger teen.  The taller teen then sauntered over to one of the comfy looking couches that the room had provided and gracefully sprawled himself across the thing in a move that Harry very much envied.  “I’m waiting, Potter.” The other drawled, eyes sharp and calculating as he propped an elbow on a raised knee and used his open to palm as a prop for his chin.

Harry walked over and sat down in an overstuffed chair.  The room they had been provided was cozy, with a few comfy looking couches and chairs with a square table in the middle and a cheerily crackling fire in the background.  Harry truthfully wouldn’t be surprised if a room that Lussuria had designed looked much like this one.  “It happened when I killed Professor Quirrell at the end of First Year.”

Zabini gave the young Potter a piercing look.  “That’s _not_ an explanation, Potter.”

Maybe it was the lack of judgement that Zabini projected despite obviously wanting answers or maybe it had something to do with Harry’s deep desire for a comrade among his peers, but when Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth to argue, the whole story spilled out instead.

Harry told Zabini about his first trip to the Bank with Hagrid, about the small package the man had retrieved then wound his tale through the events surrounding the Troll on Halloween and being suspicious of Professor Snape.  That facilitated the events that led to finding the Cerberus.  Of course then there was Norbert the Dragon and the fallout.  Then the day Headmaster Dumbledore left the school and _no one would listen_ ; the traps under the trapdoor the Cerberus, going on alone and expecting Snape only to find Professor Quirrell and his passenger.  Then fighting for his life and Quirrell screaming before blacking out and waking up in the Hospital Wing.

Throughout his storytelling, Zabini stayed silent.  Though Zabini’s eyes were intent, as if the other was carefully weighing his words, his tone, his body language, and his story’s substance with each passing moment.  When Harry had finished the story they lapsed in to not-quite-companionable but not-overtly-hostile silence for a short time.

“I think that you’re telling the truth, but you’re also leaving out a great deal.  You mentioned a sister, well a brother that prefers female pronouns?”  Zabini finally allowed though his tone was obviously querying; nearly blatantly probing for more information.

Harry’s eyes hardened behind his glasses and his tone grew hostile. “I’m not telling you anything about him.  The story from First Year you could have found out if you asked the right people, but nothing that you can threaten me with will make me tell you about my life away from this accursed place!”

Zabini uncurled from his couch and stood, causing Harry to slide to his feet as well.  Neither drew their wands, but a fierce battle of wills seemed to take place as they glowered ferociously at the other, daring the other to make the first move and break the fragile peace in the air.  After a few long moments Zabini finally spoke.  “An Incumbent Vow, then?”

“What?”   Harry asked warily, still keeping a sharp eye on Zabini’s posture.

_[Watch the hips and the shoulder, shitty brat.]_

“An Incumbent Vow is a vow used by two or more unfamiliar or hostile parties who need to come to an agreement and have to reveal information that could be used to the detriment of each other otherwise.”  Zabini explained, his muscles slowly uncoiling as he forcibly relaxed his body in an attempt to appear less antagonistic.  “It was most commonly used between high ranking nobles in the nonmagical Dark Ages when magicals had a much higher population and inter-house fighting was one of the most common causes of death.  The two parties agree to a particular set of conditions and penalties, swear the vow, and conduct their business.   The modern day magical contract is based on the Incumbent Vow, however the original Vow has been almost entirely forgotten by modern day magicals.”

Harry blinked slowly as he processed that information.  “That sounds ridiculously beneficial.”  He said somewhat dubiously, but mostly puzzled.  “The kind of thing I’d actually expected of magic, actually so _why_ , in the name of Merlin, isn’t it being used more often?  Or at all?”

Zabini’s lips curled into a sneer and he sat back down, gesturing for Harry to do the same.  “The contract is written in ink, but is sealed with blood; the amount of blood shed is proportional to the importance of the information exchanged, but typically anywhere from three to seven drops.  Only the most sacred contracts need ten.”

“That still doesn’t sound all that bad.”  Harry commented idly, sitting back down and gesturing for Zabini to do the same.

After sitting back down on the couch Zabini ran a hand through his hair and sighed before he continued.  “To understand you have to know that from 500 AD until about 780 AD the noble families actually had their squib lines run trades, farms, and all manner of businesses in the muggle world.  If a child didn’t exhibit magic by their fifth birthday they were given to the branch families to be raised, learning trades and such to benefit the family, even if only the head of each branch was aware of their magical relatives. 

“Prior to the founding of Hogwarts by approximately three hundred years- the exact date that the school was established is unknown- some of the noble houses banded together to subvert a rival assembly of houses by using the twin of one of the house lords who was a squib to bind a contract in his brother’s stead.  The twin they used escaped from the family’s manor, terrified, as he’d been pulled from his bed and into an entirely unfamiliar world and forced to shed blood to bind a contract that he couldn’t even read- the use of which was extremely taboo in the nonmagical world at that time.

“The man ran to the nearby village, telling the citizens about magic, blood sacrifices, and portraits of dead people that spoke.  The wizards found him shortly thereafter and killed him, changing the memories of townspeople and leaving, but they did not finish the job properly, as it had taken them several days to realize that the man had gone missing and people had departed the village after hearing the man’s unbelievable story.  Scholars believe that this incident is actually what sparked the Witch Hunts and the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy.  The Statute destroyed the system of using branch houses, and many of the lines were lost, only to resurface later as what are now known as ‘muggle borns’. 

“Hogwarts, of course, invited these isolated magicals at the behest of three of the Founders, but Slytherin felt that they were a security risk and refused to teach any who would later return to the nonmagical world.  He felt it was a waste of his talent when most of the students that he trained would go back to fulfill their duties to their families as farmers or laborers and only use magic in secret, as if they were ashamed of having it.  The only way other option for a ‘muggle born’ was to swear fealty or marry into an established line, but many were unwilling to do so once they found that they had to give Oaths sworn in and on their blood.”

Harry’s eyes were wide behind his glasses by the time Zabini finished.  “Whoa!  I never knew that!  Why doesn’t Binns teach us this stuff?  Where did you learn it?”

Zabini smiled humorlessly and rubbed his hands together as he turned his eyes downward, focusing on a spot across the room somewhere.  “My Mamma’s father’s family was poor, but they had journals that go back as far as fifty years before the Fall of Rome.  One of my great-aunts spent most of her life translating and summarizing the events, I read her summarizations in my lessons as a child.  Also, as the nonmagical world’s population exploded and the magicals burrowed deeper into their holes, the numbers of established magical lines began to decline as the ‘muggle borns’ refused to stay in our world and returned to the nonmagical families, marrying fellow nonmagicals and causing magic to disappear from the line, while the world that had taught them to read, write, and fight was slowly dying.  This bred resentment among the magical lines and gave rise to the school of thought that eventually became known as ‘blood purity’.”

“But, isn’t that like cutting off your nose to spite your face?  I mean, this is the only school for magic in England, it holds all of the kids who turned eleven before September first of this year up to all who turned eleven prior to September first seven years ago and there’s like, what, a thousand of us?” Harry asked, puzzled and a bit sick at how little he knew about the world he had been born into.

A parchment with elegant writing appeared on the table before them and they leaned closer to see what it said:

** Current Accounting of Students **

_There are 726 students currently within the Wards of Hogwarts School._

_127 students have been assigned to Slytherin House._

_187 students have been assigned to Ravenclaw House._

_173 students have been assigned to Gryffindor House._

_239 students have been assigned to Hufflepuff House._

Harry gave Zabini a startled look and nattered, waving his hands around for emphasis. “If that’s _seven years’ worth of kids_ , the overall population has got to be _tiny_!  I mean, even assuming that _none_ of them are siblings- like the Weasleys- and they all have two parents, that’s only like fifteen hundred people on top of the kids!  Even with magical longevity and assuming there are at least three generations of people per family that’s like- that’s-that’s- _crazy_.  I mean, there’s like, 50 million people who live in nonmagical England!  Seven hundred and twenty six is like, less than a half of a single percent!”

Zabini nodded, having been staring at Harry amusedly.  The Italian teen’s lips curled up into a rueful smile.  “Yes.  Our population is small and getting smaller, which is why purebloods were so desperate to follow the Dark Lord.  There’s no official census, but England and Ireland together are widely guessed to have a magical population of about 40,000 people overall.”

“But he didn’t He just go around killing and torturing people?”  Harry asked skeptically, shifting around and settling a bit more comfortably into his armchair.

“He made it a point to only kill ‘blood traitors’- those who clung to their nonmagical roots or nonmagical culture.  He particularly did not appreciate those who allowed nonmagical prejudice- not that Purebloods don’t have enough of their own- to seep into the fabric of our society.  Like the ‘muggleborns’ fearing anything that used blood or their disdain for same-sex or polyamorous relationships seeping into the fabric of our culture.”  Zabini explained, also settling back a bit and letting the rest of the earlier tension to bleed out of his muscles.

Harry’s eyes brightened as he finally understood.   “ _That’s_ what ‘blood traitor’ means!  I always wondered, but I never wanted to ask Ron, back when we were still friends.  Malfoy called Ron that back on the Express First Year, just before he made an arse out of himself and I refused to shake his hand.”

Zabini smirked a little before he rolled his eyes and tried to affect a mock-scowl.  “Yeah, _thanks_ for that.  The prat moaned about it in the Common Room for _ages_.”

Harry grinned back, unrepentant. “You’re welcome.”  He informed Zabini smugly.

They both stared at each other for a long moment before breaking down into laugher.  After a few more moments of mirth they finally sobered and returned to the original topic.

“So….”  Zabini said leadingly, leaning forward and fixing Harry with a neutral stare.

“Right.”  Harry nodded resolutely, grabbing his discarded bag and pulling out writing supplies. “The room can make anything, but it disappears once you get passed the door, which is why I haven’t asked for a water.”

“You could ask for a glass and use Augumenti.”  Zabini pointed out.

Harry led his head fall forward and land against the table with a rather solid sounding _thunk_.  “I’m an idiot.”  He proclaimed, his voice muffled by the wood of the table.

Zabini’s smirk returned in full force, though Harry could not see it.  “Nope, just a Gryffindor.”

“Helpful.”  Harry groused, raising his head and glancing out across the table at the other.  After a short staring contest Harry huffed in offended amusement before giving in and asking.  “May I have a glass please?” 

Instantly a plain looking glass appeared on the table.

Zabini pouted theatrically.  “What about me?”

Harry gave him a scandalized look and took out his wand in preparation to fill his glass. “Ask the room yourself, Mr. Lazy!”  He spluttered indignantly.

That earned him a roll of the other boy’s dark eyes, but he did call out for his own glass.  Shortly, another glass appeared.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Harry grumbled at the expectant looking Zabini.

Zabini waved a hand towards his glass grandly.  “Aren’t you going to be a gracious host and fill my glass for me?”

Harry looked at him askance.  “You _hijacked_ me!”  He accused the smirking Slytherin.

Zabini gave him a very put out look and spoke slowly, as if he was explaining something to a small child.  “Because you liquefied a Dementor with Dying Will Flames!  I had to cover for you to the Headmaster and field questions about it all evening!  You _owe_ me!”

Harry huffed, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips as he filled the glasses with water from his wand. “Fine, you great lazy oaf!  _You_ have to write out the contract then!”

Zabini gave him a flat look as he reached for the writing supplies and arranging them in front of himself.  “I was going to do that anyways, I’ve seen your chicken scratch, and it makes me want to stab myself with a quill.”  He informed the young Potter tartly.

“It’s gotten better!”

“No, it’s finally gotten legible!”

They shared a look and burst out laughing again, a cheerful sort of air lingering between them and chasing out the remnants of previous tension.

In the end, after Harry pointed out that he needed to talk to his _sorella’s_ Boss, Zabini- “call me Blaise, _Adi_ ”- agreed to wait until the following weekend to give Harry time to find out how much he was allowed to share.

They wandered down to the kitchens for lunch.  While they ate lunch at one of the modest kitchen tables neither of them wanted to deal with the business of the Great Hall and thus left the kitchen with a picnic basket that the overeager elves were more than happy to supply them.  Keeping to some of the lesser known passages that Harry had discovered the previous year they made it back to the Room without being accosted.  Once inside the Room they shamelessly hid from the student population for the rest of the day, mostly lounging on the couches and reading books that the room provided them.

Harry sat on his bed that night and was looking at his phone warily, trying to work up the courage to send the incredibly detailed message that he had spent the last hour and a half writing.  The  nervous thirteen year old could practically _feel_ how livid Xanxus was going to be. 

All the way in _Scotland_.  Even with Xanxus presumably in Italy.

Gulping, he hastily hit the send button before his imagination could come up with any more lovely scenarios of Xanxus murdering him with a spork or a spoon or a serviette or something**.  Harry quickly turned his phone off, stashed it in his bag-  which he kept on his bed with him as he charmed his curtains shut at night, it was a habit that he’d started last year- and did his best to calm his breathing so he could sleep.

_‘Xanxus is going to fucking kill me.’_

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Harry woke the following morning with a rather persistent feeling of impending doom.

His intuition was laughing at him, he would later _swear_. 

It was Friday.  Classes had been cancelled the day before because of the complications with the Dementors, but they had class today.  So Harry had followed the routine that he had established the previous year- getting up early, exercising in the Room, showering, grabbing breakfast from the kitchens, attending classes, and ghosting through the halls.

More than one person had tried to corner him, but Harry had had plenty of practice evading people in this castle.  Though the Weasley twins were frighteningly good at tracking, so he was going to have to practice more as he couldn’t afford to slack off and get sloppy.  He and Blaise had nodded at each other, but were otherwise keeping their new tentative association to themselves and within the sanctity of the Room.

So, at the end of the day Harry once again found himself seated on his bed.  He dithered with casting his night time charms on his bed curtains, checking them and recasting them several times, but eventually he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring down at his powered down phone in apprehension. 

Harry _really_ hoped that Xanxus hadn’t found a way reach through it to wring his neck. 

Taking one last, bracing breath, Harry powered up the phone…….but hid it under his covers as it booted up.  Harry resolutely ignored the little voice inside his head that dryly informed him that he was trying to put off the inevitable.  He cheerfully ignored that Xanxus-sounding little voice until he heard the damming little chirping notifications from under his covers that informed him that he had new and unread text messages.

For a moment he allowed himself to dislike those cheerful little tones more than he had ever disliked anything.

_‘Maybe I should just wait until tomorrow?  I mean, then it would still be early enough for me to reply and everything-‘_

Harry yelped in alarm as he _swore_ he felt the phone casing warm against his palm.

‘ _Al-alrighty t-then_.’  Harry thought uncertainly as he pulled his phone out from under his covers and looked at the screen.  ‘ _Here goes nothing_.’

―XV―I’m going to fucking kill you, shitty brat.―

‘ _Dun-dun-dun, I’m dead_.’ Harry thought bleakly as he read the first line of the message.

―XV―You can’t give him names, but you can be general.  We were fucking scouting the trash, tell him to expect a letter from his shitty fucking uncle. Your ‘aunt’ is going to send the Head-trash a letter to make sure that he lets you ‘go home’ for your Christmas hols.  I swear to fucking Secondo if you get into one more situation like this before then I’m going to fucking use your skull for a wineglass.  The only person that you are allowed to have advise you until your hols is the shark trash, he will tell me anything that he feels that I need to know. Remember what I’ve taught you and you’ll be fine, shitty brat.―

‘ _Wait, what?  What’s going to happen over the hols?  And why can’t I talk to Xanxus directly?_ ’  Harry thought anxiously as he hurried through the screens so he could check his other messages.

―SS―You’d better figure out if you can trust this trash, kitty.  If you can, I’d suggest working on teamwork now.  You do remember what we are, right?―

―LS―Sweetling!  I hope you’re eating well!  Boss says that we’re not supposed to give you advice from now until after your hols.  You can still send me messages, though!  I expect them!  Ta!―

Harry felt like ice had slid down his spine as his phone slipped from his weak grip and landed face-down on the comforter. 

He could only talk to Squalo until the hols?  What was going to happen then?  Why would he and Blaise need to work on teamwork?

Was Xanxus tired of him, was he dead weight?

Harry did not sleep well that night, tossing and turning as he tried to come to terms with being unable to even text his mentor.

What was going on?

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Harry’s restlessness only grew worse the next day.

‘ _Why is Xanxus shutting me out?  Why Squalo and not Lussuria?  What is going to happen over the hols?_ ’  the thoughts circles his mind relentlessly, distracting him and adding to the apprehensive weight in his gut.

Harry grabbed breakfast from the kitchens- along with a basket for lunch and dinner- and headed towards the Room.  As usual he stuck to the lesser known passages and such to keep from being accosted, even though it was still fairly early, the first bits of light only now breaking over the grounds, though the Dementors added a sharp, unpleasant bite to the already chilly air.

Truthfully he was not particularly surprised to see Blaise holding up a section wall beside the tapestry.

“Blaise.” He greeted the other in a subdued voice, hurriedly pacing back and forth and calling up the same room they had used the first night back.

Blaise gave him a wan smile once the door appeared and Harry paused to look up at the other.  “Adi.  I got a letter from my uncle.  We can- _should_ , I suppose- have that discussion now.”

Harry wordlessly agreed, slipping inside with Blaise following on his heels, the door barring itself behind them as usual.  They both settled into their respective seats and Harry parked the basket on the far side of the table after taking out drinks and some breakfast food for the two of them. 

“So…” Harry said leadingly once they had settled in with their respective food and drinks, unsure of how to begin.

“Alright, so-”  Blaise hesitated and glanced nervously at Harry before saying hesitantly.  “-Omertá?”

Harry smiled softly even as a fierce twinge flared up in his chest.  ‘ _Xanxus’_.  “Vindice.”

Blaise relaxed and gave Harry a startlingly brilliant smile.  “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that!”  Blaise’s visage grew haunted as he seemed to hunch in on himself a bit, looking down at his clasped hands darkly.   ”I had thought that I was al--I thought it was just me who was different.”  The statement ended in a hollowly bitter tone that was achingly familiar to Harry.

_(“I’m Harry.  Just Harry.”)_

Harry smiled softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie and kinship with the other teen. “Storm Flames, with a Sun secondary, you?”

“Cloud Flames.” Blaise said wryly, seeming pleased when Harry just grinned good-naturedly at him.  After a moment the Slytherin teen took on a cautiously excited countenance before he continued in a rather upbeat tone of voice.  “My Grandfather on my Papá’s side is half of a set of twins.  Grandfather was born with magic but his twin brother was not- it’s actually pretty common in the magical world for that to happen.  You see, a woman’s uterus can only incubate so much magic within her during gestation.  In the case of twins if the magic levels of her children threaten her own life her magic will rip the magic potential from one and siphon it off to the other, leaving the now magic-less twin to ‘ground’ the other’s magic and stabilize them.  It is part of what make magical twins so unique, as they tend to have sympathetic or complimentary magic.  Not to say they always get along or anything, but their magic is rather unique.  Some magical twins can even share magic, regardless of the space between them.”

Harry was giving Blaise an amazed look.  “How do you know this?”  He asked interestedly.

Blaise ducked his head a little in embarrassment.  “Sorry.  I spent a lot of time with my grand-uncle and Grandfather when I was younger and so they explained it to me when I asked.”

Harry fluttered his hands around in distress, trying to make up for embarrassing his- tentatively- new friend.  “Don’t be embarrassed!  I like your explanations!  I learn new things but you don’t make me feel stupid for not knowing, please don’t be embarrassed!”

Blaise peered at Harry through his dark bangs. “Everyone always tells me to shut up.  Even ones who don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, they’re idiots.” Harry responded shortly, huffing and leaning back as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “You present information clearly and like I said, you don’t make me feel like an idiot for already knowing, so feel free to enlighten me whenever you wish.”

The other let out a rich laugh as he relaxed and sprawled a bit on the couch, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves as he did so. “You have no idea what you’ve just opened yourself up to, Adi!”

Harry grinned impishly.  “Try me.”  He challenged as he, too, squirmed around as he tried to get more comfortable.

“Anyways, like I was saying, my Grandfather was born with magic, but my grand-uncle- Zio Tito- was born a ‘squib’.”  Blaise continued once they were both more comfortable.  “Actually, as a grounding twin he can’t even use Runes or potions, he’s entirely nonmagical.  Despite this fact they have always been incredibly close, refusing to let magic come between them, staying in contact against the family’s wishes.  Zio Tito eventually awakened the Dying Will Flames and became a Guardian to a Sky who is the Boss of a Famiglia.”

“Whoa!  Does he have a good Sky?”  Harry asked interestedly, having heard all about Skies who let their power go to their head from Xanxus. 

{ _Not everyone who has power can wield it properly.  There are lots of shitty fucking people in the world and giving them power only makes them shittier, shitty brat.  If everyone who had fucking Flames was a good guy there would be no need for the Varia- and not all of our targets are Flame Actives, either.  Yeah, Flame Activation can enhance certain fucking personality traits but that can be moderated if you try- you have to want to fucking control your power, though.  Not everyone wants to; they get drunk off of it and let it fucking rule them.  Those fucking trash usually end up either on the Varia Watch List or as targets.  There’s balance to fucking everything, shitty brat, never forget that.  No matter if it is Flames or magic or fucking good old fashioned brute force, there is balance in absolutely everything.  Look at the Primordials and the Titans- each group thought they were invincible, but they eventually fell to their own fucking hubris.}_

“ _Zio_ Tito has always had good things to say about his Boss, even though he doesn’t always agree with the actions of the Famiglia.”  Blaise explained eagerly, his eyes bright with admiration as he talked about his dearly loved _Zio_.  “He says that his Boss and the Boss before him have slowly begun changing the way the Famiglia operates.  There is still a long ways to go, of course, but the mafia world is much like the magical one in that- well, you know the sayings, ‘Power without purpose is meaningless.’ And ‘Power corrupts, but absolute power corrupt absolutely.’?”

“Yes, we learned about the man who made the second quote in Primary.”  Harry said interestedly, thinking back to one of the many history lessons he had had in Primary and had reinforced by Xanxus’ freakish academic standards.  “He was a…..Baron or something?”

“John Dalberg-Acton, 1st Baron Acton.”  Blaise supplied promptly, waving a hand about negligently as he continued.  “It is actually a neat summary of my family’s general thoughts on power, but anyways, the mafia world and the magical world have power that regular people- the majority of the world- can’t access, so when they go bad- they go bad.  There’s really no limit to the depravity that they can stoop to, people without supernatural gifts can be depraved enough, but when you add in supernatural gifts on top of being a depraved, reprobate individual- well, it can make horrifying look almost normal.”

Harry was utterly gob smacked. “You know, I never really thought about it that way before.”  He considered the information for a long moment, his brows furrowing thoughtfully before he continued in a pondering sort of tone. “I mean, it makes a twisted sort of sense.  They feel like their power is limitless and they can do whatever they want with it.  So they just dehumanize everyone they don’t like or think are necessary, and they get away with it until someone comes along with enough power to put them down.  Hubris, I think its called.”

Blaise hummed in agreement before adding.  “Yeah.  It’s also a lot easier to see when you look back on a conflict instead of being in the thick of it- like the Blood War.  Both sides ended up inflicting about the same amount of casualties, but because it was a ‘shadow war’ and the Light ‘won’ most of the information that could put a bad spin of the ‘victors’ has _miraculously_ disappeared.”

“But-everything that I’ve seen says that the resistance used non-lethal means!”  Harry spluttered incredulously, giving Blaise a wide-eyed, nearly desperate look.  That statement challenged everything he knew about the Blood War, dammit!

Blaise’s lips thinned as he scowled and leaned forward a bit.  “Listen, Adi, non-lethal doesn’t always mean better.  My Papá-“  Blaise’s voice faltered for a moment before he stubbornly continued on, determined to say his piece.   “-my Papá was hit with a _Stupefy_ when the Order of the Phoenix- that was the name of the group that opposed the Dark Lord- attacked one of the Dark Lord’s supply warehouses.  This sounds like a nice thing for them to do instead of killing him outright, right?” 

Harry nodded, somewhat confused.  It was better than just killing everyone you came across who did not think like you, right?

Blaise sneered, but Harry could tell that it wasn’t aimed at him.  “Papá went down near the backdoor, where the Order entered from, and he’d put up a hell of a fight before he went down.  At some point, one of the Order members banished something into the path of another Order member’s spell.  Banishment spells are proportional to the size of the object, and the spell that it intersected was an amplification spell- like an _Engorgio_ charm- when the spells collided their stability collapsed and the concussive force brought down the building.  The other Death Eaters- they were the Dark Lord’s followers, if you hadn’t guessed- thought that my Papá had been crushed so they left, and it was only when they sifted through the rubble a week later that they realized what had happened.

“Stupefy is a spell that literally puts the body in suspension of time and space temporarily, but it doesn’t stop time and apace from affecting the body.”  Blaise’s voice grew thick with emotion and his usually tamed accent slipped through his usual control, but he pressed onward despite that.  “So while the _Stupefy_ held, my Papá was experiencing being crushed to death, but his body was being held in suspension so it couldn’t send out substances to relieve pain, or allow him to bleed out or anything.  The Healers said that it took six hours for the spell to wear off and allow Papá to die.”

Harry looked sickened even as his eyes betrayed his horror.  An excruciatingly slow death due to a nonlethal spell keeping him in suspension?   “And we’re taught that Voldemort was cruel?”  He asked incredulously.

“To the victors go the spoils.”  Blaise taunted bitterly, his eyes dark with loss, grief, and pure, unadulterated fury at the injustice of it all.  “Including how future generations see the losing side.  I’m not saying that I’m angry that the Dark Lord lost, I’m just saying that there is no such thing as pure black or pure white.  Not pure evil or pure light, just people, their decisions, and the fallout.”

“Still.”  Harry said uncomfortably, shifting slightly as he tried to reconcile his feelings towards the information and what it did to his worldview.

“Don’t.”  Blaise huffed after a moment of highly uncomfortable almost-silence.

“W-what?”

“It’s written all over that stupid Gryffindor look on your face- you have nothing to apologize for, that’s not why I told you.  I just wanted you to see that all that glitters isn’t gold.”

“What are you, a fortune cookie?”  Harry asked with a wan smile, looking up at the other and trying to compartmentalize his feelings.

Talk about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes!

Blaise snorted melodramatically, affecting a haughty sort of look- rather easily done given his rather aristocratic looks.  “Please.  As if I would grace nonmagicals with my great and terrible wisdom.”

Harry burst out laughing, prompting Blaise to do so as well. 

“So, how do you know so much about nonmagicals if you’re a pureblood- a pureblood Slytherin, in fact.”  Harry asked once their laughter had subsided.  “I mean you were talking about ‘blood traitors’ so I…”  Harry trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask.

Fortunately, Blaise seemed to understand and explained without any additional awkward prompting. “I’m different from the ‘blood traitors’ in that I don’t think that magicals and nonmagicals are exactly the same, just with different skillsets.  I don’t think that there will come a time when we can all live together freely, like the popular Light propaganda espouses.  People fear what they don’t understand, but in our cases even understanding would not bring about an idyllic existence.  They would love us when we could help them, accuse us when we couldn’t, and sooner or later resentment that we can perform feats that they cannot would spill over and we would once again be hunted for the power that we wield.”

Harry wanted to argue, really he did, but Blaise’s words rang true. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while, as Blaise helped himself to a bit more of the basket of food that Harry had brought while Harry mulled over Blaise’s words.  That was exactly what would happen with people like the Dursleys.  “I think….I get it.” He said a length, the words tentative and sour on his tongue.  “The people I grew up with hated magic, and thusly, hated me, but they even hated other nonmagicals for a variety of reasons.  I’m not saying that everyone would react that way- because I think that there are a lot of good people in the world!- but I’m saying that it would only take a handful of people like my relatives to cause exactly that kind of unrest.”

Blaise nodded in appreciation, thankful that Harry Potter was reasonable enough to see an issue like this from another perspective, he was glad to finally be able to talk to someone his age and have them _listen_.  Potter even had Flames!  “Zio Tito is an exceptional Guardian and he uses his Flames to protect his Famiglia.  But he is also aware that if the power of the Dying Will Flames were made known to the greater population there would be all manner of those who would seek to use him and people like him as nothing more than harbingers of war- and if governments or special interests couldn’t control them, they would be hunted just as magicals were in the Witch Hunts.” 

Harry nodded grimly, sick that he could understand the logic of the statement.  “I could easily see that happening as well.”

“Mm.”  Blaise hummed agreeably before he steered the topic back towards lighter things.  “But, anyways, before I went off on my tangent-“

Harry groaned miserably, covering his face with his hands as he imagined Xanxus’ reaction to such a statement.  “Please don’t say that!”  He groaned piteously.   “Xa-I mean, my mentor knows way too much math and I’ve almost developed a phobia!”

Blaise grinned, dark eyes gleaming as he leaned forward conspiratorially.  “Oh, now you _must_ share this delicious story, dear Mr. Potter!”

“You Slytherins and your blackmail!”  Harry huffed in amusement as he sat back and gave Blaise a cheeky grin.

“More like, we’re easily bored and Gryffindors entertain us so incredibly well.  Now stop trying to stall!”  Blaise demanded with a grin.

Harry put his head in his hands and told him about the ‘etiquette lessons’ that he’d been forced into and how he’d made the mistake of complaining about feeling like a ‘Draco Malfoy-esque ponce’.  Then he detailed how his tutor had taken offence to such a statement and made him do an excessive amount of mathematic worksheets until Harry thought his brain was going to _leak_ out of his _ears_.

Blaise fell off the couch at one point, he laughed so hard.

They whiled away the rest of the day with light conversation and some experimentation with their Flames- mostly they just exchanged control exercises that their respective mentors had taught them.  Yet the focus the exercises required- and just being around Blaise and having someone to talk to- allowed Harry to push the thought that Xanxus had cut him off from everyone but Squalo to the back of his mind. 

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Harry and Blaise parted ways just before curfew.  It took a bit of patience, but Harry managed to clamber through the entrance to the Common Room behind a gaggle of Fourth Year students while under his Invisibility Cloak.  It was after he drifted towards the edges of the room- near the fireplace- that he overheard Ron and Hermione talking.

“-haven’t been able to catch up to him.” Hermione was saying in a distressed tone, sitting in what used to be _their_ corner of the Common Room, on the couch nearest to the fireplace.  Her large book was opened up about halfway but she was focusing all of her attention on Ron.

“I couldn’t find him on the train either.” Ron admitted to her, his lanky form seated at the low coffee table, his books and notes spread out before him.   “The twins are keeping an eye out for him too.  Even Percy’s been trying to catch him!  We wanted to apologize to him for the way we acted last year- and Bill gave me a right _earful_ when he heard about how I treated him when we went down to rescue Ginny.  We tried to owl him this summer, but the owls would just fly in a circle and then land.  Bill says that’s what happens when someone has an owl ward in place.  He said that there were probably certain conditions- like Harry considering us his friends- that allowed us to send him letters before, but now…..well-“

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth and released a distressed whimper as her book teetered precariously on her lap.  “I-I tried to owl him this summer too.”  She confessed mournfully.  “I e-even tried to find his address in the Directory, but no matter how much I tried his family’s names stayed just out of my reach- like having a word on the tip of your tongue but not being able to say it!”

Ron grimaced, looking desolate and frustrated. “It’s gotta be the Wards.  We have to talk to him, Hermione.  We have to let him know we’re sorry, Hermione.  The twins tried to charm his bed curtains to do just about anything- hold him still, yell when he leaves to make the dorm up- anything.  But they said their spells don’t stick, they just slide off.  They can change the colors of the hangings and stuff, but anything more than that just…..doesn’t stick.”

“What kind of charm would do that?”  Hermione asked, swiping at her eyes and looking interested, despite herself.

“They can’t figure it out.”

Harry ghosted away from the conversation, mentally sending a thank-you to the Founders for charming the beds to be personalized. He thanked his lucky stars when he found the dorm room empty.  He quickly completed his nightly ablutions and slipped into bed, charming his curtains from rote.  ‘ _I’m glad that you’ve seen that’s I’m not evil incarnate’_.  He thought somewhat vindictively as he remembered last Christmas and the nearly physical ache he had felt at being all alone, with the weight of what felt like the entire Wizarding World pressing down against him.  Harry was grateful beyond words for Xanxus and the man’s guidance, but Harry had still had to walk the halls alone, with only the drab grey walls for comfort as everyone watched him for the slightest sign of being ‘evil’ or ‘dark’. 

Hermione and Ron might not have been even near the worst of the offenders, but their silence and passivity had done more harm than any physical blow Harry had ever experienced.  Harry knew he probably wasn’t being entirely fair, but the ache that their indifference had left behind was a raw wound that seemed to extend down into his very soul.

Harry just….he couldn’t justify reaching out and trying to make things right again, not when he had already changed so much from the docile little follower that he had been.  He worked towards his freedom- from the Dursleys, from unwanted fame, from being the sideshow _freak_ \- every day.  Honestly, Harry did not think that either Ron or Hermione could possibly understand how he was willing to trade everything he had- fame, wealth, education opportunities- for a shot at a life he controlled.   That he chose.

Especially not when his ‘freedom’ was a life among assassins and Mafia giants.

Harry clenched his teeth and girded his resolve.  ‘ _But you chose your path and I’ve chosen mine.  I doubt that you’d stay true once you found out the truth anyways.  Maybe someday when you’ve learned that the world isn’t black and white, but for now….I just can’t take the chance that you’ll bail on me again when I need you’_

Harry realized that the earlier feeling of contentment from hanging out with Blaise had dissipated.  Resolutely pushing aside his maudlin thoughts, he reached for his phone as he decided to update Lussuria on his day of earth-shattering revelations.

Even if the man wouldn’t be able to reply.

‘ _Xanxus……have you given up on me?_ ’  Harry wondered as he settled in for another night of restless sleep.

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Harry spent the next few weeks dodging people who had hated him for the most part of the last school year but suddenly seemed to have a pressing, urgent need to have a conversation with him.

He complained bitterly about it to Blaise when they met up in the Room- which happened nearly every night as they could call up Hogwarts Library and study in gloriously undisturbed peace.  They still didn’t do much more than nod to each other in the halls and classes, as neither wanted to deal with their housemates being even more troublesome than they already were. 

Blaise had an easier time of it, having established a habit of being a loner long before he came to Hogwarts.  Harry, on the other hand, was being dogged quite persistently.  The boys had already found five separate ways to head to the room, having come close to being caught by the Weasley twins far too many times for their mental wellbeing. 

Or the sanctity of their sanctuary.

Fortunately, the twins- who were by far the more accurate of Harry’s stalkers- couldn’t devote all their time to stalking the poor Third Year as this was their OWL year.  So, as classes picked up people had much less time to devote to ‘Harry Stalking’, which pleased him immensely.

Then, of course, there were classes themselves.

Harry had snapped up Neville Longbottom as his Herbology and Divination partner.  Blaise, the little scheming snake that he was, managed to force a set of circumstances in Potions that resulted in them being partnered, much to their ‘dismay’.  The other classes really didn’t do partnered projects, so he was in the clear there.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had, for once, been amazing, but Harry was secretly glad that he hadn’t had to face the Boggart.  He most emphatically did not want to explain why his greatest fear was mostly likely failing the mentor that the Hogwarts population didn’t even know existed.  And while the practical class was fun and informative Harry had no desire to give away potential weaknesses for people to exploit later on down the line. 

Also, Harry caught the fleeting looks that the Professor sent towards him sometimes and it made him wary of the man, nice as he seemed.

Harry and Blaise had both noticed Granger taking an exorbitant amount of classes and were wondering how she was taking them all, but neither felt particularly inclined to investigate.

One would think that Harry would get caught at meals in the Great Hall, but the only meals that _required_ attendance were the Opening and Leaving Feasts- and Harry had been in the Infirmary for the Opening Feast- and the teachers were generally too frazzled and overworked to notice a single student.   

So Harry and Blaise mostly grabbed baskets from the House Elves and ate a various places around the castle or the castle’s grounds.

It was three weeks into the school year, and just after the tryouts for Quidditch had been posted on the board in the Common Room, that Harry reluctantly sent his first message to Squalo.  Oh, Harry had sent mini-novels to Lussuria every other day, but he hadn’t yet reached out to Squalo, who was the only one allowed to answer him. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t _like_ Squalo- he just didn’t know him.  Oh, sure, Xanxus had talked about his men enough for Harry to write dissertations on them.  He also knew that his prickly mentor trusted Squalo to watch his back- which was a phenomenal statement for the man to make- but Harry just felt weird messaging someone he didn’t personally know for advice.

―SB―Hi Mr. Superbi, it’s Harry.  I was thinking about whether or not I should play Quidditch this year?  I mean, on the one hand the team Captain is obsessed and makes us practice a lot which is good for fitness, but the time crunch makes it bad for studying as far ahead as Xanxus wants me to be.  Also, the Quidditch team offers me some protection from the masses, but like I said it takes up a lot of time.  Do you have any ideas on teamwork stuff for Blaise and I?  We’ve been hanging out, studying, talking, and working on our Flames, but we’re not sure what else to do.  Thank you.―

Harry felt like a complete dork and decided to remedy it by messaging Lussuria and telling the man about how hard Harry failed at interpersonal communications.

The next morning he had a reply from Squalo.

―SS―VOI!  Who the hell are you calling ‘Mr. Superbi’, kitty?  Squalo, kitty, Squalo.  As for your team, I’d say go for it, we know that the earliest that you can take those shitty tests are the end of your Fourth Year, so you might as well stick with it or it will end up causing you to draw attention to yourself.  Teamwork, well, you can try fighting with your arms and legs tied together or being tied together back to back.  I can think of a thousand exercises, but I would have to be there to oversee them.  Mostly, figure out if you can trust the other, trust it the most basic element for any working relationship.  Remember that I am your source, kitty.―

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That was pretty much the summary for the rest of the semester.

Class, homework, conversation, hiding from their ever-creative stalkers- it summed up their lives fairly nicely.

Blaise and Harry trained in teamwork as best they could, but there was one incident that caused them to almost break.  It was pretty simple, looking back, they had gotten careless in their interactions and their respective housemates had taken offense to their friendship.  Separately, but in the same time frame, their housemates tried to foster distrust and jealousy between the two boys- in the end, it was a close thing, but they managed to talk through the misdirection and sabotage and came up with their promise.

It brought about an Incumbent Vow- because part of the misdirection had made Blaise and Harry, respectively, think the other had blabbed about Flames.  It would not only have been a breach or Omertá if the Mafia had been mentioned, but soul magic was viewed as the darkest of the Dark Arts.

Even just rumors could have gotten them Kissed, if the right people had heard and raised hell over it. 

Blaise from being from a ‘Dark’ family and Harry because of lingering fear from Second Year’s disinformation about being able to speak to snakes- Parseltongue. 

In the aftermath of the incident, when everything had been aired out and addressed they made a Vow.  Well, it was more of a promise really, but the words were meant to reinforce the intent of the magic.  Because Blaise and Harry were playing a dangerous game and they could not afford to fall into the same trappings as their peers.  They would make mistakes, of course, but they could not afford to be truly juvenile as most of their peers could.  Neither teen had that sort of a margin of error- not if they wished to be _free_ and make their own way in the world.

They just could not afford to be childish or petty or immature.  They had goals and their best chance of reaching hem was together- as brothers, comrades, and friends.

So, towards that end they made their promise- their oath.

“ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere_.”

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[‘ _Until the Flame of my soul withers to ash_.’]

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Blaise and Harry stood in the foyer of the Varia Manor, their duffel bags at their feet. 

They had gone straight from the Express to the airport and been flown to Italy.  At the airport they’d been met by a man- who Harry mentally tagged as Varia, due to his uniform- holding a sign and been driven to this rather striking estate in a car with windows too dark to see out of. 

They were both nervous balls of energy.

The two teens had barely stepped onto the elegant wrap-around porch when they had been forced to unshrink their trunks. Each teen had been handed a plain looking duffel bag and told that they had two minutes to pack everything that they would need for the hols before the trunks would be locked and stowed. 

Despite their hustle Blaise and Harry had barely made the time limit with their basic necessities intact. 

They had handed over their wands to the stone-faced Varia members reluctantly, but quickly.  Harry had noted that the members had small weathervanes embroidered on their Varia uniform- on the cuff of the wrist, on the collar- which meant they were WEATHER Squadron members.  Squalo had informed Harry about the Squad- apparently the Varia had always had such a thing, but since Xanxus did not have magic they had been under the command of Esper Mammon.

At least until Xanxus had been unthawed with the knowledge of magic and took control of things properly.  According to Squalo, Esper had known of magic but did not possess it- nor was he particularly concerned about it- so many things were happening within the super-secret Varia squadron.

Harry was broken out of his meandering, uneasy thoughts when he and Blaise were ordered to pick up their bags and enter the house.  Harry shared a quick, nervous glance with Blaise, took a deep breath, and- after accepting the laminated security card from the Varia member holding open the front door- stepped inside.

Xanxus and the rest of his elite Officers stood opposite them.  The teens stood shoulder-to-shoulder but absolutely still, their heads bowed in submission and their eyes averted, as something primal inside them shrieked that they were _prey_ standing in front of _dangerous predators_.

Later Harry would recall how strange it was that they- himself and Blaise, Xanxus and his Officers, and the escorting WEATHER Varia members- were the only ones in the receiving area.  Even the balconies and side rooms had not held any observers.

The house- well, _mansion_ \- itself was warm, despite being the abode of ruthless assassins.  The rather chaotic seeming blending of the colors was strangely satisfying.  There was art on the high ceilings- though it was difficult to see properly from their current vantage point- and several stout, floor-to-ceiling pillars with texturing on them. There was a mirrored set of staircases that split off into various halls- the place seemed to be at least four stories from the outside and with Mists, anything was possible.  The scent of food was heavy in the air but there was an undercurrent of something sharper beneath the pleasant aroma.  Not quite bleach or lemon-scented household cleaner- or even wood polish- but Harry could not quite place the tertiary scents before Xanxus spoke.

“Alright, trash,” Xanxus’ deep voice seemed to fill the entire room with an even more oppressive aura. “You have two weeks to train before you’ll be taking the Trials.  The shitty brat is with the shitty shark and pretty trash is with His-fucking-Highness.  You either fucking do or you fucking die.  There’s no going fucking back, no fucking second chances.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”  The two teens chorused apprehensively.

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Squalo could usually see through Xanxus’ plans.

Squalo knew his Boss was a special kind of ruthless.  Xanxus had always been that way, even when they were kids. 

Squalo had always been able to read Xanxus, though- had always been able to look at things a little sideways and backwards and see what Xanxus was actually trying to accomplish.  Xanxus had kindness and compassion both- if you knew how to see it- but seeing as Xanxus’ rage blazed like an all-consuming inferno, it was difficult to see.  Honestly most never tried.  But Squalo knew that Xanxus never did anything important without a reason, even if most of the people in their world could not understand what those reasons were.

But Squalo had always been able to see and understand- and that was _why_ Squalo had sworn himself to the man.  Even after finding out about Xanxus being adopted and being ineligible for the Vongola Decimo seat.  Xanxus was Xanxus- and that was enough for Squalo.

When he’d come into his office that day in May and reflexively dodged the wineglass that had been chucked at his head, he had noticed that Xanxus had changed even before the man had opened his mouth.

When the man had demanded that they acquire some shitty drill company to repay some brat, Squalo and the rest of the Varia had vowed to kill the little shit that had caused their damn Boss to feel _obligated_.  Xanxus of the Varia had never bowed his head to _anyone_ , and now they had to take over a whole fucking company just to make the kid feel comfortable? 

Then Luss had called- a week after being alone with the brat and while Xanxus had been out- and told them that, _no_ , the Boss hadn’t gone spineless.  Luss had explained that while the brat was rough around the edges and from a supposedly civilian background, he was worth the effort it would take to shape him.  Luss had suspected that the kid had been born with the potential to awaken as a Sky, but had suffered a type of Flame Rejection and that was why he’d survived the so-called ‘killing curse’.

Then the brat had found that dog bastard and Xanxus had yanked Squalo and Mammon from their duties to go save the brat from his own fucking stupidity.  Squalo had been fully prepared to go against Xanxus’ orders and just kill the little shit. 

Seeing the kitty and the Boss interact had been eye-opening, however, but it was the fight that he’d had with the kid that made him finally see what Xanxus saw in the brat.

Squalo had nearly cut off his other arm when he finally was able to see the bigger picture.  Dammit, he was the Sword Emperor and Varia Head Strategist!  Bigger picture and catching details others missed was what he did!

The brat hadn’t tamed their Boss the little shit had _tempered_ him. 

Like pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place, Squalo could suddenly understand how Xanxus had come to appreciate the brat.  The kid didn’t give up in that way that only natural survivors can manage- that effortless kind of survival instinct that makes them seem borderline suicidal in battle and deceptively harmless outside of it.

Squalo, at that point, had known that the kid would be one hell of an asset when the time came, but they’d need to tread carefully or they would have another Bel on their hands. 

Brilliant, ruthless, and indispensable- the Storm Officer was still on the not-fun side of psychotic more often than Squalo felt strictly comfortable with.  Bel got more stable as he aged, but not nearly fast enough to save Squalo’s abused nerves.

This was why Squalo had been blindsided by how Xanxus chose to take the news that the kid had used his Flames to fry a Deme-thingy in front of Nono’s Cloud Guardian’s great-nephew.  Xanxus had put the kid on communication blackout, basically.  Oh, the kid had sent messages to Luss for the rest of the school term, but Luss had been unable to reply due to the Boss’s orders.  Squalo was the kid’s contact, but there wasn’t a sense of camaraderie there, so the kid had only sent him a few updates to pass on to Xanxus.  Squalo had sent information- some background about WEATHER Squadron and such, but the kid never picked up the scraps and pursued them.

The brat already had trust issues and Xanxus had purposefully cut the brat off from the only person he trusted- _Xanxus himself_.

The brat hadn’t even asked him about his shitty Godfather.

Sirius Black had originally been slated to be used and disposed of- they’d nabbed that Pettigrew fucker just to get a second opinion- but Black had proved to be useful.  Once he’d recovered enough of his mental equilibrium to be able to string more than two thoughts together Black had quickly realized the situation that he was in and immediately moved to make himself indispensable- as an information broker.  None of the Varia trusted the man, but they were slightly more inclined to keep him alive at this point.  As of the beginning of the week he was allowed to leave the Manor to go gather information without having a constant watch now that he’d brought back information that had helped the Varia come out ahead in several sticky situations.

The point was, Squalo could have told the brat about all of that but the brat had not even roundabout asked.  Most likely because he had no solid reason to trust Squalo.  Now, Squalo had two weeks to whip the brat into shape or he was going to die in the Trials.

The fact that Squalo and Bel were told to use the rooms that were usually used for death fights with prisoners or ‘guests’ of the Varia just made it worse.  If you weren’t logged as an accepted user by the Flame signature reader, the Mist and tech altered stone of the room made you forget that you had Flames.  The rooms were specifically designed to make unregistered users feel cornered, trapped, and desperate.

And Squalo was supposed to take the kitty into that room and break him- with less than two weeks to rebuild him.

What the _fuck_ was Xanxus thinking?

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Harry and Blaise were shown the rather plain room they would be sharing.  It had two beds, a small bathroom, and was generally basic.  Their escort- the same one that had met them at the airport- left after ordering them to make themselves comfortable and that their respective trainers would be by to pick them up soon.

“Blaise?”  Harry called out hesitantly, standing at the end of the bed that he had set down his duffel on and claimed as ‘his’.

“Hmmm?” The other murmured from the other side of the room.

“You know that you’re my friend, right?  My only one.”  Harry looked over at Blaise- his only friend, his brother.  Willing Blaise to see his sincerity Harry pressed forward, through the ice settling in his chest.  “It’s just-I mean- my intuition is shrieking, telling me that something is going happen- something bad, and it could tear us apart, and if-if that happens we’re going to d-die.”  Harry squeezed his eyes shut and glanced away from the other.

Blaise finally glanced over at the smaller teenager, noting how the emerald eyes of his friend were unguarded in a way that Blaise had never seen, not really.  Harry always had his guard up- because they never knew when someone could be eavesdropping, just waiting for the opportune moment to strike out against them.  They had had more than a close few calls, especially with the ever-persistent Weasley twins over the last few months.  The older boy walked over and pulled the younger into a loose embrace. “ _Fino alla fiamma del mio garrese anima alle ceneri_ , yeah?”

Harry gripped Blaise tighter and repeated their oath, pouring all of his conviction into the words.  “ _Fino alla fiamma del mio garrese anima alle ceneri.”_

The door slammed open and the two broke apart, immediately settling shoulder to shoulder, muscles loose and ready.

“Ushishishi, the Prince approves for now, peasants.  You.”   The creepily Cheshire-grinning blonde haired teen standing in the doorway gestured condescendingly towards Blaise. “The Prince has much to teach you, peasant.  You had best learn quickly or I shall slice you to ribbons.”

“VOI!  Kitty you’re with me!  We don’t have any time to waste!” The white-haired swordsman called, turning and striding from the room without another word.

Blaise and Harry exchanged final glances out of the corners of their eyes and hardened their resolves.

‘ _We won’t die here.  We won’t let our Flames turn to ash just yet_ ’

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There were actually four entirely separate underground sections on all Varia owned properties- the dungeons, the armory, the training grounds, and the personal quarters granted to privileged high-ranking members.

Squalo and Bel explained this as the two trainers led them to the elevator that would take them to the training grounds.  Once the elevator door opened on the training level, Bel and Blaise split off to go left while Squalo and Harry went right.

They ended up in a fair sized but otherwise empty room made of drab grey stone.   Harry didn’t like it- he felt cold all the way to his bones and his intuition had gone eerily, abruptly silent.

“ **VOI!**   Alright kitty, strip down to your underwear and do it fast.”  Squalo ordered from his place in the middle of the room, a bright splash of color in an otherwise desolate space.

Harry gave Squalo a horrified, slack-jawed look.  “But why- _ah_!”

Squalo’s sword had flashed and cut through Harry’s shirt, also leaving a thin cut along his torso.  “Now, kitty.”  He ordered sternly.

Harry quickly obeyed.

When he was standing in just his boxers in front of Squalo in the middle of the forbidding looking room Harry realized just how outclassed he was-he did not even have his wand or Invisibility Cloak.

“ **VOI!** Eyes up front kitty!  I’ve only got two weeks to teach you how to fight and survive before the Trial, so we don’t have time for arguments, discussions, or protests.  Understood?”

Harry nodded hesitantly, shuffling a bit and rubbing his arms as he tried to get some warmth back into his limbs.

Squalo must have been satisfied with Harry’s nod because he pulled out a dagger and tossed it at Harry- who yelped and just managed to catch it without causing himself severe bodily injury.  “You’ve been doing the exercises that Xanxus taught you?”

“Yes, sir.”  Harry managed, his teeth chattering as the cold settled deeper inside his bones.  He was not even sure he still had bones; actually, they might just be icicles by this point.

“ **VOI!**   Alright then, let’s see if you can think on your feet.”  Suddenly Squalo was hurtling towards Harry in a blur of motion and Harry just barely managed to block and spin away before the man was on him again. 

Time blurred and fell away, it was only a haze of dodging, blocking, and running as Squalo danced around him effortlessly.  There was no way for Harry to launch a counter attack, no means of escape, nothing to be a barrier between Squalo’s weapon and his body.  Cuts appeared- some shallow, some deep- and his feet stung as the tender flesh was abused by the rough stone floor.  Rashes and abrasions from contact with the wall or the floor littered his flesh, adding to the amount of pain he was in and adding more blood to the canvas of his pale skin.

Harry was woozy from blood loss- his feet were burning, his muscles screaming, and his lungs overtaxed- so it was inevitable that eventually he tripped and was forced to allow Squalo to knock away his weapon in order to control his fall. 

Squalo didn’t even pause.

Harry rolled and ducked, but Squalo kept him far away from where his weapon had fallen.  Eventually Harry’s back was against the rough, unforgiving wall as Squalo’s weapon came down without an ounce of hesitation.

Harry screamed in agony when Squalo’s sword bit cruelly into his torso, blazing a line of white-hot agony from his right shoulder to just below his rib cage. ‘ _I’m going to die_.’  Harry thought dazedly through the pain- mental, emotional, and physical- and the not inconsiderable amount blood loss from his wounds.  ‘ _I’m going to die here and the only person who will mourn me will be Blaise.  Wait.  My Flames-why-why haven’t I used my Flames?_ ’

As if they had been patiently waiting for him to remember them, Harry felt a familiar surge of warmth burning a relentless path through his veins.  His Flames eased his pain alleviated his fuzziness- how had been able to think through that fog his head had been in?- as his intuition snapped back into place.  ‘ _That’s right, I felt cold as soon as I walked in here_.’  Harry thought as his limbs regained proper feeling, even though his chest felt as if it were on fire- no pun intended.  ‘ _Why didn’t I remember that before?’_

Harry’s vision was a blur of color, but he managed to grab the wrist of the hand that held Squalo’s sword and toss the other man to the side.  He desperately sprinted across the room to his weapon and brought it to bear just in time to block another strike.  Harry’s intuition was helping him dodge more efficiently and he started to just let his body follow what it told him instead of thinking about everything first.  Amazingly he seemed to be keeping up a little better now- as if Squalo had gotten just a tiny bit slower.

But Harry’s second wind and his Flames could only help carry him so far when he’d already lost so much blood and had such a serious injury.  So it wasn’t very long before he stumbled and Squalo put him on his back with the tip of his sword to his throat.  Harry’s last thought before falling into the darkness was-  ‘ _If I live, I’m never passing out after a fight- not ever again.  This shit is embarrassing_.’

“Not bad, kitty.”  Squalo murmured approvingly from above him as the Varia Rain swiftly moved across the room and opened the door, allowing an anxious Lussuria inside.

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Harry drifted around the edges of wakefulness.  Not quite asleep, but not quite able to open his eyes either.  There were buzzing sounds just beyond the warm cocoon of rest.  Voices? 

‘ _Why do they sound so far away?_ ’

-going to scar, but it shouldn’t impair his movements.” 

_‘Lussuria?  I’ve missed you!  Did you not miss me?  You didn’t even smile at me when I saw you earlier.’_

“Good–fucking remember-Flames.” 

‘ _Xanxus!  Xanxus why did you cut me out?  Was I that much of a burden?  Is that why you let Squalo almost kill me?  Or was I not supposed to survive?  My chest hurts and my eyes are burning, why don’t you want me?’_

“ **VOI!** -that-bad!” 

_‘Squalo!  You almost killed me, bastard!’_

“-sure about this, Boss? ” 

_‘That’s Esper.  Why is he in my dream?’_

“Don’t question the boss, you-“ 

_‘I don’t recognize that one.  I don’t understand.’_

A warm, calloused palm pressed against his forehead.  “Sleep, shitty brat.”  A deep voice rumbled.

Harry drifted back into unconsciousness with a smile.

_‘Xanxus!’_

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When Harry woke next it was full dark outside the windows, but he recognized the ceiling of the room that he and Blaise had been shown to when they had first arrived.  His mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, his head ached, and his body was making a plethora of complaints known all at once. 

Harry managed to struggle upright- absently noting the neatly wrapped bandages over the majority of his body- and managed to turn his head to see that Blaise was in a similar state over on his bed.   Harry slowly struggled to put his leaden legs over the edge of the bed and stand, only to hiss in pain as his mutilated feet came into contact with the floor, wrapped or not.  It took judicious use of various impromptu leaning posts, but he managed to make it to the bathroom, do his business and wash his hands.

Someone must have washed him at some point, because he was no longer covered in grime and he actually smelled clean.  He made his way out of the bathroom and back towards his bed only to realize that his bed was on the far side of the room and his legs were literally shaking with exertion. 

‘ _Fuck that noise._ ’  Harry thought as he climbed into bed with Blaise.

Lussuria nearly bit through his finger to keep in the squeal he wanted to release when he came across the adorable sight that the two cuddling, battered teens made.  The Varia Sun was surprised that Harry had been able to move though, as Lussuria had been sure it would take at least a full night for the worst of the muscle damage to heal.  ‘ _You’ll do us proud, sweetling_.’

It had taken Blaise and Harry two days to recover.  Two days which were spent with Squalo and Bel going over Varia Code and associated procedures for Varia missions and the penalties for failing to follow the Code.  The penalties for breaking the Code mostly seemed to be death, painful death, or excruciatingly painful death. 

The remaining eleven days were a blur of being beaten into the ground or being randomly attacked- usually while sleeping- and then lectured.

 **_“VOI!_ ** _Never ignore your surroundings!”_

_“Ushishishi, it seems the Prince must teach you peasants the proper punishments for not being aware of his Royal presence!”_

Being post-lecture meant being flattened into the ground again.

The final day the two boys were told to rest and prepare themselves for the Trial.  Any desire to ask about the Trials had been beaten out of them early in- the Trial was a sacred rite to the Varia.  No one who had passed the Trial ever spoke of them and those who hadn’t passed them- well, the dead weren’t in much of a position to tell the boys anything.

They were told that someone would be there to escort them to Xanxus’ office at nine in the morning and to be prepared for anything before being left to their own devices.  They had been given neutral-colored Varia styled uniforms along with the weapons that they had been training with over the past two weeks to be used in the Trial- their wands were still in their trunks or wherever the Varia WEATHER operatives had stashed them.

Harry’s Invisibility Cloak had been confiscated after his initial training session with Squalo and was with their trunks as well. 

They were entirely cut off from any possible cheats.

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Harry and Blaise sat on ‘their’ bed.  Well, it was actually just both of the beds that the room had been furnished with shoved together and into the far corner of the room to better defend from sneak attacks from their crazy, sadistic trainers.  At any rate Blaise was trying to teach Harry how to play poker using the playing cards he had thought to grab.

Unfortunately, Blaise wasn’t having much luck. 

“Seriously, Adi, how can you not get this and still manage to ace those stupid worksheets that the Sadistic Bastard gives us?”  The teller teen asked in exasperation.

Harry grinned impertinently at his shifty friend. “Those worksheets have _actual right answers_.  I’m pretty sure that you’re abusing your power as a teacher and changing the rules as you go.”

Blaise sniffed in mock contempt, but tellingly didn’t deny the accusation.  “Well, then, what do _you_ want to play?”

“Go Fish?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Go Fish?  You honestly want me to play _Go Fish_?”  Blaise gave him a disbelieving stare.

“I’ve never actually played before!” Harry defended himself, looking down at his hands mournfully.

“Seriously?”  Blaise asked skeptically.

“Yeah, I never had anyone to play it with.”  Harry turned big, soulful emerald eyes to peer up at his friend.

Blaise scoffed at the obvious puppy dog eyes his friend was giving him and proclaimed.  “I’m a Slytherin, and as such I am immune to guilt trips and all other forms of emotional blackmail.”

“But, Blaiiiiise.” Harry whined, doing his best to ramp up the amount of ‘wounded puppy’ in the look that he was trying to use against his friend.

“Fine, you big baby.”  Blaise sniffed disdainfully as he gathered up the scattered cards.  “You snuggle in your sleep; I should have suspected that you would be incapable of playing a sophisticated game.”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t love me.  And it takes two to cuddle.” Harry sing-songed triumphantly as he tried to do a happy dance from where he was sitting cross legged on their bed.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Blaise sniffed haughtily as he shuffled the deck.

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Blaise and Harry stood in front of Xanxus- who was seated in a throne-like chair and was flanked by the rest of the Varia Officers- awaiting orders.

The room was silent as the grave and entirely sober.  There were none of the usual antics that the members usually displayed.  These weren’t the slightly unhinged people who made normal people feel uncomfortable at Mafia dinner parties- Harry realized with startling clarity- these were the greatest assassins the mafia world had to offer.  These were men who had walked through the fire, been consumed by it, and then been reborn as Varia Quality.

“You both have come far in the past few weeks.” Squalo spoke from over Xanxus’ right shoulder.  “And today you will receive your Trial.  Pass or fail you may not ever speak of this event to anyone other than those in this room; though failure in this case will most likely result in your deaths.  This task was chosen specifically for the two of you, do us proud.”

“This Trial has until midnight on the twenty fourth to be completed,” The Varia leader said from his relaxed position on his throne as Squalo stepped forward to solemnly hand Harry an envelope sealed in wax- the wax contained an imprint of the Varia Sky Ring, which rest on Xanxus’ right hand. “That gives you almost five days and both of you must return here before the time limit expires to pass.  You are to proceed directly from here to your mission.  You are dismissed.”

Blaise and Harry nodded sharply and departed.

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Xanxus knew that this whole plan had been a giant fucking risk.

He had also seen the glances that his men had been throwing his way the past few months- particularly the shitty shark, the homo trash, and the miser midget.

Xanxus’ gut was screaming that he didn’t have the luxury of time in regards to his boy and the prospective Cloud Guardian.  He had planned to use this summer to train the boys and then give them a long term mission to achieve over the next school year.  Hell, he had been planning on them taking the Trial the summer after- though they would not be full Varia until they passed seven of Mammon’s fucking Linguistic Proficiency Tests.

 _No time, danger, must be prepared, notimnotimenotime_ \- was all that his intuition would say as it curled around in his gut.  It irritated him, the constant unrest of his intuition whenever he thought about his shitty brat and the long term plans. The unrest caused his already tenuous control of his temper to waver.  Xanxus had always been volatile, but he had fought a brutal battle against his inner Flames to be the one in control of his Wrath, so it really pissed him the fuck off that his own intuition was working against him in the matter.

Xanxus had known that the shitty brat had trust issues- they were had to fucking miss if you cared to fucking look- but his brat had needed to realize that he could trust the people that _Xanxus_ trusted.  When Xanxus had gotten that message about his boy icing that fucking Demen-trash in front of the trash who they had been scouting as a Cloud potential, the screaming mass of his intuition had only intensified. 

That was when he knew he needed to get creative, no matter how much he really did not want to rush things.

People always looked at the feathers in Xanxus’ hair and saw them as a sign of savagery- and in technicality they would be correct. 

Xanxus had been extremely small- two, possibly three- when he had learned that coddling would get things that you cared about killed.  There had been a lake in the park that he and his mother squatting in, and the lake had hosted a few families of whitewing ducks. 

Xanxus had watched- hidden behind a tree while his mother had been sleeping- as some wanna-be mafia trash had snapped the neck of the mother duck and her ducklings, leaving only a sickly one behind.  The laughing, jeering scum hadn’t killed the ducks for food or for their down, they just killed them because they _could_ \- it was the first time Xanxus could remember seeing people abusing animals.

Humans killing each other?  Old news.

But killing animals for no reason- not food or shelter or anything useful?  It had _shocked_ him.

Xanxus had taken the sickly duckling back to his mother, and she had been lucid enough to help him care for it.  He had carried it everywhere- even as it had gotten older and was nearly as big as him.  The duck grew fat; contented and Xanxus had doted on it endlessly.  He had kept it warm through the winter and chattered at it excitedly whenever he discovered something new.

Then, less than half a year later, his mother had gone into one of her fits.  In a cramped, dirty alley behind a black-market brothel she attacked Xanxus- as she was wont to do during her rages- and his duck had tried to defend him.

His mother had killed his first friend- for he had felt more connected to that animal that he’d ever felt to any other human, even his mother- with her own two hands, despite the animal’s best efforts.

It was that event that had awakened his Wrath Flames.

His mother had been shocked out of her fit by the appearance of his Flames.  Upon seeing all the blood and the body of her son’s duck she had smiled at him- taking a few bloodstained feathers and braiding them into his hair- and cooed about how she’d always known he was special, how _proud_ she was of her strong boy.

It had been then- with the blood of his first ever friend coating the feathers braided into his hair- that Xanxus had realized life’s most important facts.

To her the feathers had represented Xanxus’ apparent cruelty, of how he had killed his own beloved pet in a fit of rage.  Of how _strong_ the boy was, to commit such a heinous act.

(People only saw what they wanted to see, no matter what the truth was.  Doubly so if they were personally invested in the outcome.)

To Xanxus the feathers represented how someone he loved could only be protected if they could protect themselves. How even the people who were supposed to be the closest to him wouldn’t hesitate to use his loved ones against them if he let it be known how much he cared.

(Love and desperation only stretched so far.  Hide behind a veil of lies or misdirection or rage but never expose your heart, not even to those who claimed to love you.)

The feathers, while they had changed throughout the years, were the constant reminder of his resolve to not be the reason someone he cared for died.  He had learned to growl, snarl, and rage in order to keep people distant, set apart from him and his true goals.   He had grown cruel and terrible in his quest for power, but always, always he kept in his deepest heart the reasons _why_.

It was why when his intuition sparked sharply in regards to his boy, Xanxus once again hardened his heart.

Because…..

Xanxus suddenly realized that he was going to have to take drastic measures.

So, the Varia Leader had put the kid on communication lockdown, even though he’d allowed the little shit to twist the rules and continue to message Lussuria.  On their end Xanxus had laid down the fucking law to Luss, and Lussuria had given him a disgustingly watery smile but he’d acknowledged the absolute order his Boss had given him.  The shitty fucking shark had passed on the brat’s messages- but like Xanxus had suspected, the boy hadn’t trusted Squalo with even a quarter of the information that the brat had sent Lussuria, even though Squalo was the only one in the position to provide the brat any information in return.

While most people would bitch about how the brat had spent five weeks ‘bonding’ with Luss and had had only met Squalo once, Xanxus had spent at least six fucking months sporadically telling the brat about his men.  The little shit had been told that these were the only people in the entire fucking world that Xanxus trusted to have his back, and the brat should have been able to see past his fucking emotions and ask Squalo the important fucking questions because the brat knew that _Xanxus_ trusted Squalo.

But the brat had let his emotions and personal feelings get in the way and he had been unable to use the source of information that he’d been provided.   That had only increased Xanxus’ ire because if the brat truly wanted to become Varia Quality he couldn’t afford to pull that shit. 

If Xanxus told the brat that he trusted someone and they were to be the brat’s information source, then the brat should have fucking abused the _shit_ out of that source.  End of fucking story.

So, that led him to the present.  Casually sitting in an ornate, throne-like chair inside a secure room at Varia HQ waiting for the cameras that he’d had his men rig up to catch sight of the two Potentials, sipping at a glass of wine, and trying to get his intuition to _shut the fuck up._

Xanxus had a plan, and if it succeeded it would be more than worth the favors, money, and risk that he had gambled on it.

If it failed though………..

‘ _I’ve done what I’ve thought to be best for them; now they’ll either put it all together and pull through or they’ll die trying.  One way trip, shitty brat._ ’

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Blaise and Harry made their way out of the Manor where a car was waiting.  Varia protocol was that missions of the caliber that theirs, as indicated by the color of the sealing wax, were not to be opened until they had found a neutral, secluded place to unseal the missive.

It was a tense twenty minutes later that they were dropped off on the sidewalk of a nondescript street and left on their own.

“An alley?” Harry suggested lowly as he and Blaise moved to blend with the crowd.

Blaise hummed thoughtfully.  “Not one of the shady ones.  We’re teenage boys so us slipping into the moderately kept ones should go mostly unnoticed.  Trying to slip into a shady one might grab interest of the wrong sort.”

“Pervert.”  Harry muttered, ducking his head and trying to hide his blush.

Blaise leered unrepentantly.  “Says the guy who calls L-that guy his _hero_.”

“I didn’t call him my hero, I called him-“

Then Blaise was grabbing ahold of Harry and slipping them into an alleyway, holding himself intimately close to the other.  The taller teen pressed his hands on the wall at Harry’s back and tipped his head forward so that his hair was shielding Harry’s face.  Harry used the barrier than his friend was providing him to carefully scan their surroundings with a sharp eye.

“We’re clear from the street.” Harry breathed out, as they were honestly close enough to actually be kissing.

“We’re clear from the back too.” Blaise murmured affirmatively as they melted into the shadows of the alley in a way that only those that have spent two weeks hiding from the Varia’s Bloody Prince could accomplish.

Harry had been carrying the envelope that contained their mission, having surreptitiously checked that it was still there about twice a minute since they had left the Varia Boss’s office.  Once he had somewhat unsteadily pulled the envelope out of his pocket they both took a moment to admire the flimsy looking vessel that would be crucial in deciding their fate. 

“ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere_.” Harry breathed out shakily- partly as a prayer, partly as an oath- as he stared down at the envelope in his hands.  His fingers absently- nervously- traced nonsensical patterns in the paper, but avoided the wax seal.

An elegant mocha colored hand covered his own, twining their fingers together as the brother of his heart forced Harry’s troubled green eyes upwards.  “ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere_.”  Blaise said firmly, pressing their joined hands over Harry’s heart.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, gathering all his fears, doubts, and reservations, and then-

-then he released the breath, and let them go. 

Harry opened his eyes- and when had he closed them?- and cracked a wry, wobbly grin at Blaise. “Let’s see what those bastards have planned for us, eh?”

Blaise’s return grin was predatory.

A spark of Flames sent towards the seal caused it to dissolve in a crackle of what were quite obviously Xanxus’ Wrath Flames.  They pulled out the mission brief with the Proof of Action laying neatly on top, printed in elegant script on high-quality linen paper:

“By order of **Xanxus of the Varia** and **Vongola IX** ,

Biagio Medici of the Estraneo Famiglia is to be executed for his crimes against the Vongola Famiglia.

Varia Mission Rating:  Crimson

 _This is an official mission and as such this order may be presented to the Vindice as Proof of Action_.”

The emphasized names were imbued with Flame- much like the seal had been. 

As with any mission, there were pictures of the target and any information that the Varia had felt relevant to the mission’s objective.

“Crimson rating means that we have to k-kill every Estraneo that sees us.”  Harry muttered dully, feeling vaguely betrayed by Xanxus.  Yes, Harry had killed before but it had been in self-defense!

Blaise gripped Harry’s shoulders and met the younger boy’s gaze squarely, “Adi, you knew that you were going to have to kill during the Trial- and Squalo and Bel told us what to expect when that happens.  We can do this.  We _have_ to do this.”

Harry shook himself free and centered himself internally. ‘ _Blaise is right. I wanted this.  I want to be Varia Quality someday._ ’  “They gave us what they had on the floor plans; we need to find a point of entry.”  He said briskly, trying to push back the unease of his intuition and his nausea at the thought of ending another’s life.

The two poured over the information that they had been provided, deciding to get some rest before proceeding to the storefront that was thought be the entrance to the Estraneo lab that their target was currently occupying.  If they had learned one thing from their sadistic trainers it was to rest when you were able because you never knew when you’d be reduced to catnaps.

They made their way out of the alley and scouted a park that was reasonably close to their objective.  It was late morning at that point, so they grabbed some food, took care of their needs, and headed back to the shelter the wooded area around the park provided.

“Nap, Adi, I’ll take first watch.”

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It took them almost two days to finalize the plan to get into the base.  They had noticed the hole in the guard rotation- which was rather obvious to them, but they didn’t fully realize just how much training Squalo and Bel had packed into their short training period- the first evening, but had decided to play it safe and observe a little longer.

They crept towards the weak point in the guard rotation and slipped through the camera’s blind spots- Levi, they had found out from their gleefully sadistic trainers, was more than happy to rat them out so they had learned about how to avoid technology the _hard way_ \- and then they were passed the storefront and into the Estraneo stronghold.

They were surprisingly calm, falling back into the mindsets that had allowed them to survive Squalo and Bel’s attacks for two weeks as they carefully slipped through the halls of the base.

They noticed a few major differences in the actual floor plan as opposed to the drawings that they had been given, but they improvised well enough to reach the corridor that indicated their target’s sleeping quarters.  After a quick, whispered discussion Blaise quietly crept further in- to try and ascertain if the target was in his rooms- leaving Harry to guard their backs.

It wasn’t long after that that it happened.

A harried looking person wearing an Estraneo embossed lab coat burst into the side hallway and saw him.  Harry saw the person see him, saw the man open his mouth and Harry just _moved_.

One moment he’d been sure that they were about to be discovered and killed and the next moment he had neatly cut the person’s throat in a practiced motion that he had had beaten into him repeatedly over the last few weeks.  The neat neck slice was part of a two-part move that first cut across the throat before coming around to stab through the junction at the base of the skull, resulting in nearly-instant death.

‘ _Why didn’t he just dodge?_ ’  Harry thought dazedly, even as his body moved to drag the recently-deceased person into his little patch of shadows.  ‘ _Squalo always moved.  Why didn’t-I didn’t mean-why_ -‘

 **{ _VOI!_** _Alright kitty, when you make your first deliberate kill, you’re going to go into shock.  You might vomit, you might cry, but you have to keep your head.  You can properly deal with it when the mission is over and you’re back home.  If you let that moment control you, you’re done, and everything that you’ve done up until now will have been wasted_.}

Harry vomited as quietly as he could next to the body as hot tears made their way down his face, but he pushed it all back- just like he’d done last year during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco.  Just like Xanxus had taught him and Squalo had lectured him. 

When Blaise slipped back into view a few moments later he took in the state of his friend, the body, and the pile of bile on the floor in a single glance.

Suddenly Harry was terrified that-

“He’s in his room.” Blaise said instead, eyes steady as he looked at Harry. “Let’s finish this.”

Harry nodded shakily, hastily wiping his eyes on his sleeves and following Blaise into the target’s room.

_‘One way trip.’_

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 “Ushishishi, the Prince is pleased, the little peasants may have been worth his time.”

The elite members of the Varia were once again gathered in the secure room at Varia HQ to monitor the progression of their little fledglings.  There had been a feeling of irritation building as the brats had done nothing and wasted nearly two days of their time just observing, but the way they had gotten in undetected by the Estraneo security was fairly impressive.

Xanxus was staring at the screen- once again absolutely unreadable to Squalo- while Lussuria had needed to use his Flames to regrow the fingernails that he’d gnawed off in his incessant worry at least four times already.

The part of the Trial that Squalo had been most concerned about had gone better than he had expected.  Oh, he knew that the kid hadn’t dealt with his first kill yet, but the way the kid had managed to pull himself together was promising.  The Varia watched as the two made their way into the room where the target was resting, Bel’s student dispatching the man almost effortlessly.

It was after the two boys had made their way back out that Xanxus spoke.

“Levi, raise the Estraneo’s intruder alarm.”

“Yes, Boss!”

_‘What the hell are you thinking, Xanxus?’_

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They had just started making their way back out of the little side corridor when a siren blazed to life. 

“Fuck!”  Blaise swore as they headed deeper into the base, their way out almost instantly having been cut off by thugs that poured from the side corridors.

They ended up in the actual laboratory, and immediately any remorse they’d felt for killing their target vanished.

“Cages.”  Harry breathed in horror as he took in their surroundings.  “They’ve got kids in _cages_.”

“Well-” Blaise said mildly, looking equally as disturbed.  “- we do have our orders.”

Harry- who had been lost for a moment in memories of a cupboard under the stairs, and long hours of wishing for someone to free him- snapped back to reality.  “Yes,”  He said slowly, a rather wicked looking smirk coming to life on his lips. “We do.”

With that the two teens stepped out of the shadows and went to work.

They moved in tandem, as if they had been doing it all their lives.  They sliced through any Estraneo members who dared to show themselves mercilessly.  There was no thought or rationale, just the next opponent and covering the other’s blind spots. 

It was almost impossible to tell how long they had been at it.  The floor was slippery with bodily fluids and the air was stale with death and they, themselves, had their fair share of injuries but they pressed on.  Whenever they came across higher access cards they took a moment to open the doors to the cages as they passed, not that the children were able to do more than stare with how emaciated and-or injured they were.

However, they were still young and barely trained in the ways of battle.  So it was inevitable that one of them would take a hit that would disrupt their rhythm. 

Blaise took a hit to his side and in the confusion of the next few moments was pinned to the ground with a booted foot on his spine.  A tall, muscular man in a lab coat pointed a wicked looking gun directly down at Blaise’s head.  Labcoat Thug had a few lackeys hovering around the fringes of the room- but no more than five and none of them seemed to have weapons.

“Tell me the information that I want to know and I’ll let you and your little friend leave here alive.”  The man growled as he ground the heel of his boot into Blaise’s spine, causing the other to whine in pain.

“Don’t listen to him, Adi!” Blaise yelled through the pain. “Don’t worry about me, just don’t listen!”

“Yes, yes, that’s very nice, but I can tell that someone sent you, who was it?”  The man fired a shot next to Blaise’s head without taking his eyes off of Harry.   “Talk.”

Harry’s heartbeat was strangely loud.  He could see the lips of the man moving, but he couldn’t hear anything.  He heard the crack of a gunshot, but he couldn’t force himself to look away from the man’s sneering visage.  ‘ _He’s going to kill Blaise_.’  Harry thought dazedly. ‘ _He’s going to_ -‘

 _No_.

 **_No_ ** **.**

People who wish to become Varia Quality don’t give up, not even in situations like this.  This is where they thrive.

“-the one who raised the alarm, you know.”

Harry’s sense of sound seemed to snap back into place.  ‘ _He’s monologuing.  I can use that_.’  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

The man’s lips pulled back into a sneer as he repeated himself.  “I said that it was your little friend’s fault that the alarm was raised, he tripped on of the invisible beams.  Tell me what I want to know and I’ll let you go free.”

Harry pretended to study Blaise, and willed his eyes to go cold and his body language to project indifference.  ‘ _Please understand what I’m doing_.’  “Yeah, he’s can be useless like that.  What do you want to know?”

Blaise went stiff with shock, before squirming desperately and screaming.  “You bastard!  I _trusted_ you!  How could you?!  After all we’ve been through.”

The man’s expression settled into smug satisfaction and as the bastard opened his mouth to speak Harry _moved_.

Harry ended up cutting man’s head off even as he grabbed the arm that held the gun and twisted until it broke.  Harry ignored the gurgled noises coming from the newly-dead man and he continued on to the idiots that just stood there and watched, quickly finishing them off and retuning to Blaise’s side.

“Blaise?”  Harry called tentatively even as he cast his senses out to search for any new danger.  His intuition was steady stream of warnings at the moment, so he wanted to be on guard.

“You’re an complete asshole, Harry James Potter!”  The other snarled curling a hand into a fist and lashing out at Harry.  Harry accepted the punch to the abdomen that Blaise gave him with little more than a grunt of discomfort.  When Blaise finally looked up at Harry a few minutes later Harry was horrified to see _tears_ his friend’s eyes.  “I really thought-you looked so-“

Harry knelt down and grabbed Blaise by the shoulders, willing him to understand.   “I had to create an opening.”  He said regretfully. “I’m sorry.  It was the only-“

Then Blaise yanked him close and hugged him- right there in the middle of that gore infected hellhole of a lab- and whispered fiercely. “ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere._ “

Harry hugged the other boy back just as fiercely.  “ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere._   Always, my friend.”  Harry sat there for a moment longer, relived that his friend understood why he had done such a shitty thing and also just luxuriating in the knowledge that they had survived such a close call.  Only for a precious few moments, though, because they were still in the middle of a battlefield.  So he shook himself loose and struggled to his feet.  “Come on, we need to move.”

Before they could go far, however, a sense of marrow chilling coldness stopped them in their tracks.  There was the eerie sound of rattling chains all around them as a black rip speared in the air in front of them and three of the most feared beings in the mafia world stepped out of the jagged tear in space and time.  The beings wore tattered black cloaks that moved about in an unnatural wind.  They had tophats on and every single inch of their exposed skin was swathed with white bandages, giving them an even more foreboding presence.

“The Vindice.”  Blaise breathed, awestruck even as his knees shook in trepidation.

“On whose authority was this mission assigned?”  The obvious leader demanded.

Harry quickly pulled out their Proof of Action and handed it to the one who he assumed was in charge.

The next few minutes were tense as the Vindice muttered among themselves.  Eventually the letter was handed back to Harry and leader addressed Harry in a harsh, guttural voice that sent shivers down Harry’s spine.  “This seems to be in order.  Be advised that if you take any of the children with you they will be considered Prisoners of War.  Since neither the Varia nor Vongola have officially declared war against the Estraneo, taking Prisoners of War will put you in violation of Mafia Law.  The decimation of the Estraneo is legal due to you VMR, as the Varia guidelines for missions have been ratified by the Commission and are therefore recognized by the Vindice.”

Harry and Blaise exchanged a quick glance.  “What can we do for them, sir?  The kids, I mean.  They need somewhere to go or they will just be recaptured and put back in cages like these.”

“You may direct them to a nearby neutral family and provide them a map.  That is the limit of your interference.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Harry said gratefully, giving the officer a respectful bow before he stepped back to stand by Blaise.

“….you are welcome.”  The Vindice officer said after a moment rather incredulous silence had passed.

Then the Vindice melted back into the shadows and the lab seemed able to breathe once more.

Harry and Blaise quickly scratched out a couple of maps and left them with some of the older, more lucid children as they made their way back out of the base.  The two teens were able to arrange the formerly cages children so that no one was left behind.  The alarm had separated the lab section from the main base, so the children that could move stuck behind Harry and Blaise as they fought their way out.  The two Hogwarts students were so far over this mission and killing that they were absolutely numb and their bodies were moving on autopilot.

When they finally made it back to the storefront, it was obvious that the sun was about to rise. 

“We’ve only got until midnight to make it back to base.” Blaise murmured to Harry as they led the kids out of a side door that led to a less frequented alley. 

They still had to take out a few more people, but with the battle mostly over their injuries were starting to make themselves known and there was no way that they could walk around in broad daylight with their clothes in their current state.

“We’ll slip through the alleyways, as long as we keep moving we should be able to make it back.  If we crash now we’ll never wake up in time to make it before the time limit is up.”  Harry murmured back, helping rearrange a few kids so they would be able to transport the weaker ones more expediently.

“Agreed.”  Blaise sighed from where he, too, was rearranging kids and limbs.

The kids watched as their saviors slipped off into the morning twilight without a backwards glance.   None of them truly catching on to the fact that the two boys had _freed_ them until long after the two teens had disappeared from sight.  The older escapees quickly began herding them together and following the maps that they had been provided, trying to disappear into the city and the crowds before the Estraneo sent back up.

“Harry James Potter, hmm?  Kufufufu.”

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The day was mostly a blur of keeping out of sight and keeping themselves moving.  If they hadn’t had so much damn practice over the last few weeks, they never would have made it.

They had managed to find a small, fairly secluded stream about midday.  There they had stripped out of their filthy uniforms, quickly washed themselves, and bandaged the worst of their injuries with some gauze that Blaise had had the foresight to grab.  Blaise had also had the foresight to grab one of the target’s wallets.

“ _It’s not like he had any use for it anymore!” He defended himself against Harry’s exasperated expression._

Their neutral toned Varia jackets were thankfully reversible so they managed to look like delinquents instead of insane asylum escapees.  Not much of a distinction, but one that allowed them to catch a cab back to Varia territory instead of walking.

It was well after dark before the stumbled up the drive to the house, having been detained at the gate for nearly an hour.  As it was they barely made it to the porch before their bodies gave out.  So they never saw Lussuria and his minions pour out of the house and haul their battered bodies to the infirmary or saw Xanxus standing at the window of his office, his arms crossed across his chest and a fierce sort of pride on his face.

_‘I knew you could fucking do it, shitty brat.’_

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Harry sluggishly drifted towards consciousness.

He slowly became aware enough to realize that he was scandalously comfortable, warm in a way that sent spirals of contentment through his very soul.  Harry could hear voices murmuring at the edge of his awareness and very slowly started to make his metaphorical way towards them.  He, with inordinate amount of effort, managed to peel open his eyelids- only to slam them back down almost instantly as his brain shrieked in pain at the light that cheerfully greeted him.

He could hear the murmurs still.

“Adi, sweetling?  I turned off the lights; it’s safe to try again.”  Lussuria’s reassuring voice sounded from beside him as warm, gentle fingers began to card through his hair.

Tentatively, Harry opened his eyes again, blinking a few times to clear them, and slowly taking in the room around him.  Lussuria was standing next to him, smile soft in the dim light as the man ran his fingers through Harry’s hair.  Xanxus was seated in one of his usual ridiculously lavish chairs just behind Luss, with Squalo leaning on the wall behind the man’s position.  Blaise was sitting up on Harry’s right, with the Bloody Prince perched beside him on the bed, while Esper Mammon and a man he didn’t recognize- but guessed was Leviathan- were leaning against the wall at the foot of the bed closest to the door.

The room itself was much like Harry’s room back at the Dursley’s.  Actually, it almost seemed an exact replica- except this room had a huge set of French doors.  The doors were open so that he could see the balcony that rested just past them and beyond the elegant balcony was the greenery of the gardens that Lussuria had told him about, but he hadn’t truly had time to appreciate just yet.

As Harry took all this in he turned his head towards Blaise and their eyes met- and just like that Harry was drowning in memories of blood, fire, gore, death, and _whathadhedone-_

“Brat.” Xanxus’ voice cut through the chaos of his mind effortlessly, dragging him back to the present in an instant.

It was only then that Harry realized that he had curled in on himself, shaking and sobbing, and then there was a container in front of him as he vomited bile.  Harry felt, more than felt, Blaise scoot closer, offering steady, silent support while Lussuria rubbed soothing circles on his back as the man whispered indecipherable, comforting words through his breakdown.

Eventually, Harry cried himself out and hastily wiped his mouth with the cloth that Lussuria offered him, feeling more than a little embarrassed and angry at himself that he’d been so weak in front of Xanxus and the others.

“Brat.”  Xanxus’ voice came again, sterner. “You’re thinking too fucking loudly.”

Harry hesitantly peeked through his bangs at his mentor, accidently locking eyes with the man.  Harry suddenly felt deeply ashamed and went to drop his gaze- but then Xanxus was there, gripping his chin in a firm grip and forcing Harry to look directly at the man.

“Look at me, shitty brat.”  The man ordered sternly and Harry didn’t dare look away, not even when the hand fell away from his chin.  “You’re allowed to show us weakness- you’re allowed to show me weakness when you’ve come back from a mission like that- you’re just not allowed to _fucking stay there_.  Cry, puke, scream- whatever you fucking need to do- but keep fucking moving forward.  Don’t let this your moment of weakness rule you, fucking own it and move on.”

Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment and ordered his thoughts.  Did he feel better?  Yes, yes he did.  Did he truly regret what he’d done?  No, not particularly.  He would never enjoy ending a life.  It would never be something he would revel in, but he wasn’t _sorry_ for what he had done.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Xanxus, lost.  “What-what if I’m not sorry for what I did?  I-I mean I didn’t enjoy taking lives but.”  He fisted his hands in the covers and allowed his head to drop, his bangs shadowing his eyes, even as leaned a little closer to Blaise.  “I don’t think that I’ll ever enjoy ending a person’s life.  I- enjoyed the battle, I think.  Fighting without restraint, but I didn’t enjoy watching the life leave their eyes, even if they were scum.”  His voice cracked and his eyes went teary again, but he pushed on. “I don’t regret it though.  I don’t regret a single life I took.  What-what does that make me, Xanxus?”

“A warrior.”  Xanxus replied calmly.  “Now that you have passed the Trial and understand what it is that we do, who we truly are, do you still wish to continue on this path?  There will be no chance to back out after this-“

“No.”  Harry said resolutely, snapping his head up to meet Xanxus’ gaze squarely, determination blazing in his eyes. “I won’t back out now, not ever.  I chose this path and I will see it through.”

Xanxus fairly radiated smugness as he returned to his chair, and Lussuria returned from wherever he’d disappeared to- Harry hadn’t seen him leave, but he guessed the other man went to empty the bile bucket- and promptly settled himself into bed with Harry.  Harry immediately leaned his head on the Varia Sun’s shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of having fingers run through his hair again.

“Shitty brat.”  Xanxus spoke up again after a few minutes of quiet. “I imagine that you’re wondering why all of us are here instead of just the people you are closely acquainted with?”  Xanxus received a nod, from both teens. “It’s because all of us had a hand in this plan.  I haven’t made the decisions that I’ve made in these past few months lightly, and now that you’ve passed the test, I’m going to explain the bigger picture.  Hold your fucking questions until I’m fucking finished, understood? This is going to be a long fucking story time.”  Xanxus gave both Harry and Blaise the gimlet eye and then settled further back in his throne-like chair, accepting a glass of wine that Squalo handed him and taking a sip before launching into his tale.

“Do you remember what I told you about Flame types?  Did you tell the other trash?”  Harry nodded, mentally rolling his eyes that everyone started out as trash in Xanxus’ mind.  “Well, thanks to information provided by Black-trash and the rat-trash, andwhat Lussuria has been able to find out- we put together a theory, but only I had all the information.  We think that that Volde-trash fucker was a Sky who ripped out each individual Flame and stored them into objects to keep his soul tethered to this plane of existence.  Esper or Levi could give you fucking technicalities, but basically since he had magic the fucker knew that he could make himself a fake fucking body and be ‘resurrected’ as long as he used one of his stored Flames to create a space for his shitty ‘main soul’ to be able to possess the fucking thing without causing the fake body to instantly fail.”

Harry and Blaise turned faintly green, but didn’t comment as Xanxus paused to take another sip of his wine before continuing.  “I think that you were born with the potential of a Sky, and when that Volde-trash fucker came to kill you, whatever your fucking mother did created a magical disturbance- like I said ask Levi or Esper for the fucking mechanics- but when the ‘killing curse’ hit you, it tried to rip out your soul, but couldn’t fully do so because of whatever your mother had fucking done- so your Flames didn’t activate so much as they passively rose to help.  I think that your fucking Lightning flames turned the spell backwards.  Since Volde-trash was planning to rip out a Flame and store it using killing you as a catalyst, the Flame he was planning on storing ripped out anyways due to the strain of that killing curse shit not working.”

Xanxus swirled his wine and stared at the ceiling.  “That killing curse ‘abracadabra’ shit works by instantly shattering the soul’s connection to the body, it literally works in the span of a second.  According to Levi and Esper’s research this would normally prevent the Dying Will Flames from manifesting because the soul connection to the body is instantly shattered and the soul moves on to the next plane.  The magical disturbance that your mother caused fucked up the curse and gave your soul enough time to counter attack.  Thus your becoming Flame Active and surviving.  But your Flames were young, unstable, and thus you only awoke your Lightning Flames at first, instead of the full Sky Flame.”

“This is where it gets complicated- or more complicated.  Fucking shitty brat, bending the fucking rules of the fucking universe.”  Xanxus sighed gustily and sipped more wine.  “I think that the Flame the fucker was planning on splitting split anyways- using the point where your Lightning Flames ‘rebounded’ the shitty curse- to try to burrow in and take over your soul and your soul responded by using whatever was left of your Lightning Flames to seal the wound to keep the main soul from following and taking over your body through the foothold the divided Flame provided.” 

“Your soul- knowing that it couldn’t defeat the fucking parasite- acted to save you, possibly with help from whatever your mother fucking did.”  Xanxus rubbed at his temples before taking another long pull of his wine.  After he set his glass back down he looked directly at a wide-eyed Harry and continued.  “By best as we can tell, your soul used your Cloud Flames to seal the other side of the wound, wrapped the whole area with your Rain Flames, and used your Mist Flames to reinforce the seals.  This left your soul out of balance, with only your Storm Flames and your Sun Flames being available and free of strain- and I imagine that your Sun Flames were trying to heal the damage to your soul.

“That shitty old geezer apparently invoked some fucking old-ass Blood Magic when he left you with the scum that did- and does, unfortunately- protect you from those who would harm you on behalf of the Volde-trash.  The protections don’t work on your shitty fucking so-called family members.  The loophole of family being able to hurt the minor is why that shit fell out of practice ages ago.  Blood Wards like the ones at the scum house were actually designed to fucking be used against people who had murdered members of their own blood.  The shitty old man twisted it, but could not- or didn’t- think to change the fundamental rules to keep you entirely protected.” 

Xanxus shook his head in disgust and continued after another pull of wine. “Anyways, your fucking soul was effectively shattered- you shouldn’t have ever been able to awaken your Flames at all without your soul being in balance- but once you fought the fucking main soul at the end of your First Year at that shitty fucking school, you managed to expel the fragment of Flame the fucker left behind when you were a baby.  That was step fucking one.  Step fucking two was when you fought that shitty Basilisk and nearly died and that Phoenix cried on you, your Sun Flames were finally strong enough to heal your soul- and through our connection, my soul, which is why the ice I was fucking trapped in fucking shattered.

“It wasn’t until Luss told me about the state of your soul and mentioned possible Flame Rejection that I got suspicious.  When we got a hold of information from Black-trash and the rat-trash that we started to put all of this together.  When you messaged me and told me that you iced that Deme-trash I realized that drastic measure needed to be taken.  Shattered Skies heal, never wield Flames at all, or have to be eliminated.”

Harry turned grey but Xanxus continued without paused.  “You’re a moderate type, but battle is where you truly grow.  Either you would rise to the occasion and pull your soul the rest of the way together or you would have to be eliminated.  Fortunately it seems that your association with the Cloud brat has helped more than it had hindered and you managed to pull yourself together.”

“So you were trying to see if I was a threat.” Harry spat out bitterly, once again fisting his hands in the cover and allowing his hair to shadow his eyes, pulling roughly away from Lussuria as he did so. “All this time-“

The wineglass sailed through the air and shattered against the wall behind the bed as Xanxus was once again in Harry’s face, wrenching his chin up to meet the man’s infuriated gaze, “I did not.” Xanxus thundered dangerously. “Have my men _pull triple shifts_ researching this shit for the last six fucking months to simply fucking assassinate you, trash.  They, and I, have all worked ourselves to exhaustion in this fool’s errand to see you come out of this fucking situation _whole_.  Do I fucking make myself clear?”

Harry gulped, bitterness abruptly draining away, as he realized just how much time they’d have had to put in to piece this all together in such a short amount of time.  He suddenly felt very, very small.  “I’m sorry.” He murmured as Xanxus stared at him for another long moment before releasing him. Lussuria instantly snatched the boy back to his previous position as Blaise gripped Harry’s wrist in a silent show of comfort.

Xanxus was still standing beside the bed, arms crossed as he stared down at the boy who was meekly lying against Lussuria’s shoulder. “I will overlook this just this once, because I know the toll the communication block took on you.  Not to mention puberty and your soul being out of balance.  But the next time I tell you someone is your trusted source of information, you fucking listen, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Xanxus nodded sharply before turning around and heading for the door.  “Well, fuck this noise.  It’s the day after Christmas, you’ve got training with Squalo for the rest of your hols.  Your shitty trunks are in the fucking wardrobe.  We’re doing Christmas Dinner- because fucking Lussuria _insists_ \- later tonight, I expect you both to be there.”

Then the man left, followed by Squalo once he had reached over Lussuria to ruffle Harry’s hair-“ _VOI! Not bad kitty!”_ \- and Levi and Esper, with Bel only staying long enough to toss a few comments to Blaise about their training that would start the next day and then the two Hogwarts students were alone with the Varia Sun.

“How are you, sweetling?” Lussuria asked Harry seriously, tipping the boy’s head up to look directly at the older man. “Boss pushed you pretty hard, but we were really hoping for you to pass, hon- and you did, beautifully, but I want to know that you’re alright.”

Harry blinked back tears and shifted his hand so he could twine his fingers with Blaise, feeling more even keeled and calmer with the Flames of his friend coiling gently against his palm. “I don’t think that I’m alright right now, but I think I will be okay.”

Lussuria smiled and cooed, “I hope so, you’re my cute little brother!”  Then the man turned serious. “What Xanxus didn’t get to tell you before you made him mad- and don’t worry, it happens all the time, it’s kind of his _thing;_ he’ll be fine- is that now that your soul is back in Harmony your Flames will slowly shift back to the Sky they should have been all along.  You’re going to need to be extra careful when you go back to school because you’ll have to learn to control your Sky Attraction.”

“Sky Attraction?”  Harry asked faintly.

“It’s a Sky trait, Adi.”  Blaise finally spoke from the boy’s other side, causing the attention of the room’s occupants to switch to him. “It’s a natural aura that a Sky exudes when they are seeking their Guardians.  Guardians help ground a Sky, from what I heard from Zio Tito.  They are not strictly necessary but they- ah, enhance?- a Sky’s Flames help keep them grounded and focused.  It’s sort of like finding friends and making them family.  Or it should be, anyways.  There’s a spiritual aspect to ‘Harmonization’ but a lot of it varies from person to person, from what I’ve heard.”

Lussuria hummed thoughtfully and fussed with the covers. “I imagine that that is part of the reason why you and your Cloudy friend are so tactile.  Blaise will most like Harmonize with you as soon as your Flame achieves the inner Harmony and you shift back to your natural Sky Flame.”

“Yeah, about that, I thought I was a Storm?”  Harry asked weakly.

Lussuria shook his head and gave Harry a patient look. “Like Xanxus explained, all the events that happened when you were a baby caused your soul to splinter internally.  When you expelled the soul piece your soul began the healing process, but you manifested as a Storm because it was the only Flame strong enough to be used offensively at the time.  When you had your incident with the Basilisk and the Phoenix used his tears to heal you, your Sun Flames were boosted enough to catalyze the healing process, which I’ve helped along.  Your training with Squalo and your Will to survive the Trial has given your soul the necessary foundation to fully pull your soul all the way back into balance.”

“So, I’m a Sky, but I was able to use my Storm Flames.  Will I still be able to use them?”

“I’m not sure, sweetling.  Skies are rare, even in the mafia world.  Shattered Skies usually cannot use Flames at all or go insane and have to be taken down.  I know that the Sixth?  Yeah, I think it was the Sixth, anyways, the Sixth Boss of the Vongola Family was a Shattered Sky who managed to pull himself together.  The situation was different, naturally, but it gave us hope that you’d pull through!”  Lussuria finished fussing with the blankets and hopped to his feet.  The perky Sun spun around to grin down at Harry with his hands on his hips. “Now I have to go finish dinner!  It’ll be at seven, don’t be late!”

And, with that, the Varia Sun Officer bounced out of the room.

Harry turned back to look at Blaise, suddenly terrified that he’d lose the other all over again. “So, um.”

“You’re thinking so loudly I see smoke come out of your ears, Gryffindor.”  Blaise drawled in amusement.

“What does being a Gryffindor have to do with anything?”  Harry pouted outrageously, mostly to try to hide his nearly overwhelming relief.

“It made you stop being stupid, didn’t it?”  Blaise pointed out reasonably.

“I wasn’t being stupid!”  Harry cried indignantly.   “I was-“

“-worried that you’d somehow manipulated me into being your amazingly dashing brother-in-arms?  Complete with pretty purple fire and snarky one-liners about Gryffindor?”  Blaise drawled irreverently.

Harry sulked rather pointedly.  “Well, if that Sky Attraction stuff-“

“-hasn’t even kicked in yet.  You’ve only just finished helping right the balance in your soul, which has been out of balance almost your entire life.”  Blaise’s firm tone softened and he smiled at his friend.  “ _Relax_ Adi.  We made it- together- and that’s how we’ll make it next time and the time after that and the time after that.  One way trip remember?”

Harry smiled- bright and honest- even though the shadows in his eyes were still there, the blood on his hands was still fresh, and he knew he had barely gotten started.  But somehow he figured he’d be alright as long as Blaise was there to keep him from being an idiot.  “Yeah,” He said warmly to his friend.  “One way trip.”

“ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere_.”  Blaise repeated resolutely as he started to help Harry out of the bed.  Blaise knew that the first thing he had wanted when he’d awoken was a shower, and he imagined Harry did as well.  “It’s more than just an oath now, it’s a way of life.  A creed, even.”  Blaise chirped cheerfully as they hobbled towards the ensuite facilities.

“ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere.”_ Harry replied firmly, eyes sparking with resolve.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A nod at the amazing one shot by the talented wolfsrainrules titled, 'Burning' that is based on 'Fire'.


	5. Chapter 5

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** Chapter Five **

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Harry shifted uncertainly outside of Xanxus’ door, trying to dredge up the courage to knock.

Harry and Blaise would be heading back to Hogwarts in the morning.  The plan was for Esper to accompany them and they would switch out with Sirius-who Harry had learned was using a potion called Polyjuice Potion to impersonate him over the hols- and take the Express back to school. 

In retrospect Harry felt a little stupid for not having thought about that particular angle- of someone possibly checking up on him at the Dursley house.  Especially if Mrs. Figg was actually watching over the house for Headmaster Dumbledore and potentially reporting back to the man.  Not that Harry thought that the Headmaster had a vested interest in Harry’s holiday plans, but tipping their hand to _anyone_ before Harry was ready to leave magical Britain behind would make things….even more complicated.  Harry did feel sort of guilty about never having asked about Sirius once school started and Xanxus had laid down the communication blackout.  Doubly so after Squalo and Lussuria had filled him in on the _hell_ the man had gone through to make himself useful to the Varia, all so that he could be reunited with Harry.

The hols after the conclusion of the Trial had been tumultuous. 

Harry and Blaise had both had nightmares, and had stayed together most of their nights simply for comfort.  They were getting better, though.  Resolving things and beginning to move past their first real kills.  The still-intense training that they’d been doing had helped a lot in keeping them focused and moving forward which greatly contributed to their continued healing process.  Though they were restricted in their movements and only allowed in certain areas without an escort.  Since they were usually training, in the Archives, or resting it really was not a problem.  Lussuria usually kidnapped them and took them to the Sun Officer’s quarters to eat- though most of the Officers took dinner in there whenever they had time or were not on Canteen Watch.

Although……..

The boys had quickly found that other than Lussuria and to some extent Squalo, most of the Varia elite were either ambiguous towards them or vaguely hostile. Bel was alright as long as he was focused on ‘training’ one of them, otherwise he was rather volatile.  Levi seemed to not-so-quietly despise them- which, considering how much the man idolized Xanxus was not an overwhelming surprise.  Esper was only slightly interested in Harry because Sirius was helping him make a fortune in information not directly related to the Varia- it wasn’t like Sirius could broker the information himself while the man was still essentially a Varia prisoner.

So, as this was the one issue that Harry couldn’t really discuss with Luss, Blaise, or Squalo- Harry simply knew that he needed to talk to Xanxus.  However he had been wary of approaching the man since Harry had lashed out at the Varia Boss and made him angry at Harry’s emotional accusations.

Harry sighed heavily and was just turning to flee- like the coward he was; he _never_ should have accused Xanxus of using him, not even indirectly!- when he heard Xanxus call out from the other side of the thick wooden door.

“Come in and talk about whatever the fuck is causing you to fucking fidget in front of my fucking door or go the fuck away, shitty brat.”   Xanxus’ voice rumbling through the door made Harry startle a little, before he sheepishly turned the handle to the door and slipped into the room.

Xanxus was lounging on one of the leather couches, his arm thrown over his eyes and a wineglass within reach.  The balcony doors were wide open, and an unseasonable thunderstorm was raging outside letting in that crisp scent of rain and rebirth.  The fireplace was crackling merrily across the room, giving the room a pleasant warmth to offset the chill from outside while also bathing the dark wood of the room in warm light, and highlighting the raised dark eyebrow on the man’s face as he looked at Harry from under his slightly raised tanned arm.

Harry scuttled over and sat on the floor by his mentor’s torso.  Unsure of what to say now that he was actually there he looked down and traced idle patterns in the plush carpeting as he thought about how to phrase what he wanted to say.  Xanxus was surprisingly patient, despite Harry’s intrusion into his personal space.  For nearly half an hour companionable silence reigned in the room, the sounds of the raging storm and the crackling fireplace a pleasant sort of white noise that prevented the silence from becoming uncomfortable or oppressive.

“I never wanted to be a Sky.”  Harry finally said, the words coming out in a tumbling rush as he squeezed his eyes shut and confessed what was truly weighing on his mind.

“Hmm?”  Xanxus grumbled from above him, the sound thick with the lethargy of being only half-awake.

Harry briefly peeked up at Xanxus through his dark bangs- since his soul had balanced his vision was improving and he really only needed his glasses to read, meaning he no longer needed to tilt his head so that he could see through the lenses of his glasses to see something properly. “I wanted to be Varia Quality, to serve as one of your subordinates.”  Harry looked back down at the carpet and started drawing new nonsensical designs in it as he forced himself to continue to the crux of his dilemma.  “Some of the stuff I’ve read in the Archives about Skies says that they can turn on each other and I-“ Harry’s voice wavered precariously and he trailed off, leaving the statement open ended as his brow furrowed in something like pain and he waited for Xanxus to reply.

“Hmph.”  Xanxus snorted derisively, reaching out a tanned, scarred hand to rest heavily on Harry’s head, the elegant fingers sliding easily through the messy, dark strands of hair as the elder man ruffled the teen’s hair nonchalantly.  “You’re a hundred years too early to be a threat to me, shitty brat.  No, _shut up_.  That’s how Negative Sky Charisma works- the other Sky sees you as a threat or potential threat and either tries to destroy you or fucking manipulate you into being a puppet or rival.  At least that is the propaganda and all the weak scum believe that trash.  No, you’ll find your Guardians and we’ll butt heads occasionally, but you’ve already accepted your place as my shitty protégé, so you’ll just have to fucking deal with it.  One of these fucking days you’ll finally strong enough to stand on your own as my equal, but you’re a long fucking ways from that day, shitty brat.”

“But I-“  Harry protested, only to be cut off by the Varia Boss.

“ _Shitty brat.”_  Xanxus growled as he thumped Harry decisively on the head, earning a scowl from the teen.  “By the time you are able to stand on your own, you and your shitty trash Guardians will be _Varia fucking Quality_.  I won’t accept you as my equal until you can best me in a fight, and until then you’re just a _shitty fucking brat_ , understood?”

Harry ducked his head, warmth blossoming on his cheeks as he suddenly realized how _stupid_ he’d been being. “Yeah, I get it.  Thanks, Xanxus.”

Xanxus grunted in dry amusement and removed his hand.   “Fucking fabulous.  Next time you need to have fucking girl talk, go find fucking Lussuria.”  Xanxus grabbed his glass of wine and brought to rest against his lips before he added.  “Now go the fuck away, the shitty shark trash is on a mission so he can’t fucking nag me about the fucking paperwork the incompetent morons dropped off on my fucking desk earlier.”

Harry hopped to his feet and stood in the open doorway for a moment, before favoring his mentor with a cheeky grin.  “You know, I heard that old people-“

He barely got the door closed before the wineglass slammed into it, but he cackled in unrestrained glee all the way back to his room.

Inside the room Xanxus settled back into the couch and gazed up at the ceiling with the smallest of smiles playing about his lips.  ‘ _You_ ’ _ll be fine, shitty brat.’_

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The switch with Sirius went off without a hitch thanks to Esper covering them.  Sirius slipped a note that contained the events that has transpired with the Dursleys and an authorized letter that he’d been allowed to write Harry as long as Esper looked it over first.

So it was that Harry and Blaise once again found themselves seated on the Express reading their respective literature in companionable silence.  Though this time they were seated side-by-side and occasionally exchanged short, hushed conversations.

“ _Dear Harry,_

_I want to thank you, first of all.  When I first got out of Azkaban my head was a mess- well, more of a mess than it had been already.  My grand plan was to kill the rat before the Dementors-(also known as Demen-trash or the Unfabulous Kissers- caught up to me in order to keep you safe._

_It was that reckless type of thought that got me landed in Azkaban and you in Durs-kaban to begin with._

_I know now that your Varia friends originally planned to heal me enough to be an information source and then dispose of me._

_And you know what?  I would have been okay with that, because at least I know that the Varia will do their damndest to prepare you to not only survive but to live a full life._

_They’re not people who Dumbledore would approve of- not even during the original War with Grindelwald- and they remind me a bit of the Black family back in our prime.  You know, before all the second-cousin marrying and robe kissing became an actual thing.  Their leader and the people who follow him are unrepentantly brutal, ruthless, and unwavering in their protection of those that they see as their own._

_I couldn’t have picked a better group of people for you, to be involved with, Harry._

_I did things Dumbledore’s way in the War- turned my back on my family for him- and I don’t regret it.  But my path won’t work for you, you’re your own person and you need to find your own way- and I am so very, very happy that you’ve found these people.  I know that I’m going to have to work hard to be granted even a measure of the trust that they have in you, but as long as they keep pushing you forward and helping you survive I’ll do it without complaint._

_Never doubt that I love you Harry.  Never doubt that your parents are proud of you, either, even with the path you’ve chosen and the blood on your hands- and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, because James Potter was my brother and I knew him better than anyone._

_All my love, Pup._

_-Snuffles_ ”

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Classes started and Blaise and Harry fell back into their routine. 

Sometimes, in DADA Professor Lupin gave Harry strange looks, like he wanted to talk to Harry or something.  Unfortunately- for the Professor- since Harry had long been practicing the art of blending in like a ninja there was never truly a chance for the man to corner him.  Blaise told Harry that he suspected that the man was a Werewolf which made it possible that Professor Lupin could smell the blood on them.  However since the sharp scent of death and spilled blood was layered under all the other smells and their Flames infused their scents with their element, it was probably just confusing the man.

Sometimes Blaise and Harry had nightmares and snuck down to the kitchen for some hot cocoa.  The House Elves cocoa was wonderful and appreciated, but that didn’t stop the two from wishing like hell that they were back at Varia HQ.  Back in Varia HQ’s Officer’s kitchen with Lussuria handing the cups to them with understanding eyes and that half smile the man only brought out to those he cared about.

On the few nights that Harry couldn’t sleep at all and his intuition told him that leaving his bed would be an _invitation of disaster_ Harry would type long, rambling messages to Lussuria. The man wouldn’t answer, but Harry _knew_ that Lussuria read them and somehow that made everything better- just knowing that there was someone other than Blaise who was willing to listen was a soothing balm to his soul.

Speaking of his soul, Harry could feel the changes that he was undergoing as his soul slowly started to Harmonize.  He had not reached full Harmony yet, but he could tell it would be soon, and then he’d have to deal with Sky Attraction on top of his usual stalkers.  Now that his soul was no longer freshly patched back together, he felt a little better about being a Sky.  But he could still feel the individual essences of his Storm Flames and his Sun Flames and he worked hard to still be able to use them, even if they were not nearly as powerful, individually, as they had been. 

He was kind of looking forward to Harmonizing with Blaise, though. 

Lussuria had explained that for the Guardian, achieving Harmony with their Sky was like coming home after a long day and finding all your favorite foods and all of your favorite people.  The Sun had warned them that for several weeks Blaise would not really want to let Harry out of his sight, as the feeling was not unlike a drug, but with the added undercurrents of simple human nature and the need for reassurance.  That, no, the ceiling was not going to come crashing down and being out of sight was not the same as being out of mind.  Once Blaise’s instincts realized that Harry wasn’t going to break the Harmony, the other would settle down, but Blaise would need to find a way to see Harry over the summer or once they saw each other again it would be twice as bad.

 _{“Fortunately_ -“ Lussuria trilled brightly as he danced around his kitchen, Blaise and Harry chopping vegetable for him at the table.  “ _Blaise here is a Cloud.  Even though he leans more towards a Classic type- loner except for those that he trusts, as Classic Clouds do not deal well with stupid, let alone stupid people- Clouds generally are the ones that Harmonization Insecurity are the shortest for.  Mostly because it takes a lot of trust for Cloud Flame users to accept Harmonization- it’s actually usually the last Guardian, as the Clouds are incredibly picky about who they bond with if they bond at all- Classic Cloud Types even more so as, again, stupid is not their jam- so you guys are really lucky.}_

When Harry asked Blaise about it, he received a frustratingly enigmatic smile and was told that it was all taken care of.

As with the Fall Term the first few weeks back were filled with stalkers- like the ever persistent Weasley twins- and the Quidditch game with Hufflepuff that had been postponed had been set for the second week of February.  Well, the game had been originally scheduled against Slytherin that day, but Malfoy had ‘fallen ill’ and the Staff had tried to put Hufflepuff in the spot.  At least until Harry had made a viciously rational argument against the move and had gotten the entire match postponed.  Oliver Wood had been highly annoyed until Harry had asked his Captain if he only wanted the Cup at the price of facing an unprepared team which had ignited Wood’s Quidditch pride and caused the issue to blow over.

Blaise had laughed at Harry two days later in the Room because Harry had needed to dodge the sincerely grateful Hufflepuff Quidditch team to get to the Kitchens to get their baskets of food from the elves.  The frazzled young Potter had looked more than a _little_ annoyed at the Slytherin reclining languidly on the couch when he finally made it back to the Room.

So, with the game scheduled for Saturday- the twelfth- Blaise was needling Harry about what he wanted the Italian to pick up from Hogsmeade for Ginny Weasley as a thank-you for that horrid Valentine the previous year.

“Oh come now, Adi, I’m sure you can-“

“ _No_ , Blaise, just _no._ ” Harry moaned piteously. “She wasn’t even _awake_ in the Chamber and I swear that when she looks at me she has honest-to-Merlin _stars_ in her eyes!”

Blaise cackled delightedly from the couch. “Does she faint when she sees you?  Because-“

Harry chucked a relatively heavy book at his friend, though there was a rather reluctant grin on his face.  “You _prat_.  I’m going to pay Lavender or Pavarti to start a rumor that you want to marry Pansy Parkinson.”

Blaise gaped unattractively at Harry.  “Oh, _Merlin_ , why would you even _think_ of that?!”

“Now you know how _I_ feel.” Harry said with a smug sense of satisfaction.

“No I don!” Blaise retorted hotly as he scrambled to regain his mental footing.  ”Y-you obviously have an Oedipus Complex-“

Harry gagged dramatically from his chair before firing back a sing-songed.  “You.  Parkinson.  _Babies_.”

Blaise turned faintly green. “Truce?” He asked sulkily.

“Truce.”  Harry agreed with a smug grin.

They shook on it.

The truce lasted about an hour, in the end.

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The weather was cold, wet, and miserable.

 _‘Perfect day for Quidditch, really_.’  Harry thought sarcastically as he floated around the Pitch looking for the Snitch so he could just end the damn game already.  It was going on three hours, the scores were nearly tied, and Harry was over this entire thing, really.  ‘ _I wish Luss was here, he’d lambast these stupid morons for making his ‘darling little brother’ fly in these horrendous conditions_.’  The thought of the hot-tempered Varia Sun taking the Staff to task about the weather conditions cheered him up enough to let out a slightly hoarse laugh and returned some of his enthusiasm for the game.

_There!_

Harry spotted the tell-tale fluttering of the snitch and his world sharpened as he pursued it.  Soon enough he was flying straight up, hot on the trail of the little golden ball that could end this miserable game.  ‘ _Almost there!’_   Harry thought elatedly as he surged forward the last little bit to snatch the Snitch out of the air in front of him.  It was then that Harry’s world expanded back outwards and he registered the screeching panic of the previously rather quiet but excited crowd and the frantic screaming of the Announcer for the players to _get out of the air._

Harry fuzzily realized that ice was forming on his broom handle and looked up with a feeling rather resigned dread.  ‘ _Oh, hello, Deme-trash.’_   He thought blearily as he released his hold on his Flames and coaxed them towards his palm as he began to lose control of his broom.  ‘ _Fuck off.  Safest place in Britain my ass.  Sirius Black is in Italy you morons.’_

As he fell he released a burst of Flames- he could not rightly recall what type they were, but he kept feeding them until he lost consciousness.

While he was still falling to the ground.

_‘Blaise is going to murder me.’_

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Waking up, once again, in the Hospital Wing was a lot like waking up after the Trial- except Blaise was in a chair instead of in bed beside him.

“B-urk.” Harry was cut off by a cough that jerked Blaise out of his light nap and back into reality.

“I can’t leave your side for five minutes, can I Potter?” Blaise grumbled as he helped the other set up and drink most of a glass of water.  “You weren’t even _out of my sight_.”

Harry, feeling slightly more human, tried again. “W-wwhatt happened?”  His words were a bit slurred, but understandable.

“Well-” Blaise said in a falsely cheery voice that did not match the look in his eyes and made something in Harry’s chest- near where he imagined his intuition rested- twinge painfully. “-the Dementors descended on the Pitch and the Staff waited to call the players out of the air until after you were already going _straight up towards them_.  Then you had another bout of ‘accidental magic-’”  Here Blaise paused to stare at the slightly cringing Harry meaningfully before continuing in a deadpan sort of tone of voice. “-and vaporized at least _eight_ of the things before you passed out while still falling to your death- though, fortunately no one actually saw what you did _because you were so high up in the air and surrounded entirely by Dementors_ and were saved from becoming a pancake by the Headmaster.  Oh, and the Whomping Willow ate your broom.”

“It ate my _broom_?!” Harry cried in distress.

“Yes, so glad that you have your priorities straight.”  Blaise muttered waspishly as he sank back into his chair; his face set in a mulish expression of mutiny at he stared at his _insane_ best friend.

Harry’s face showed his devastation at the news.  “But….my broom….”

Blaise ratcheted up his glare a notch.  He had plenty of perfect ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ glares to try to emulate, so it was quite impressive.

Harry’s eyes watered slightly and he made a pathetic noise of misery.

Blaise’s glare sharpened, his Flames creating a ring of purple around his- supremely unimpressed- dark eyes.

“It was the second present I ever got.  Hedwig was the first.”  Harry muttered as he seemed to wilt a little under the glare.  Of course when Blaise’s Flames had flared up in his eyes the little presence behind his diaphragm twisted sharply, the pain sharp and cold in a place that was usually calm and warm.

Blaise’s glare softened a little and the sharp ache behind Harry’s diaphragm eased, much to his relief.   

“I could understand nearly dying for that beautiful, wonderful, amazing owl.”  Blaise admitted freely.  “She’s magnificent and quite clever and irreplaceable- speaking of which, we need to ask the Room to make a window so we don’t have to travel to owlrey or the grounds to praise her.  But that sort of dedication to a broom is unacceptable.  I can buy you another stupid flying broomstick, idiot.”

“So can I.”  Harry pointed out indignantly.

“ _Exactly_.”  Blaise pronounced, sitting back and very much looking akin to a cat who had managed to raid the cream.

“ _Harry_!” A voice fairly shrieked from the Infirmary doors, disturbing the peace of the Infirmary. “ _You’re awake_!”

Harry groaned softly and leaned back against his pillows.  Blaise snickered quietly beside him as they heard people rushing over.  Within moments the previously mostly-empty Infirmary was hosting the Beaters and Chasers of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and a few others that Harry couldn’t see.

Harry’s smile rang false to Blaise.  “Hey guys.” The words were polite and friendly but Blaise could nearly feel the annoyance and resignation coming from his friend. 

It made the Cloud want to smash things.  Like the faces of these stupid people that were disturbing his friend and impeding his recovery.  Didn’t they know that Infirmaries were supposed to be quiet?  And that crowding around someone’s bed was just rude?  The sick person was stuck in bed, how were they supposed to breathe with people crowding around and making them feel claustrophobic?

“Harry!” Hermione babbled- oblivious to the internal struggles of her Slytherin classmate- as she bounced a bit on her toes and worried her bottom lip with her teeth- looking about two seconds away from wrapping the bed-bound Potter in a hug. “We were so worried!”

“Yeah, mate!” Ron butted in cheerfully.  “We thought you were toast, but Dumbledore used a spell at the last second to catch you!  It was brilliant!”

“Harry dear-“  One of the worn-out looking- but dry- Weasley twins started.

“-your dedication to the game is admirable-“  The other one took up seamlessly, though he, too, seemed exhausted.

“-Wood-esque, really-“

“-he’s barely stopped cheering-“

“-but please, dear one-

“-next time-“

“-don’t melt the Snitch!”  The twins finished in unison, holding out a half-melted glob of gold for the dark-haired boy to see.

“So, we won?” Harry asked dryly as he glanced at the melted, weakly fluttering golden blob.

“Yeah, mate!  Of course, Snape-“  Ron started to explain, only to be scolded by Hermione.

“ _Professor_ Snape, Ronald!” Hermione hissed at the redhead.

Ron ignored Hermione’s correction and plowed forward.  “-the git tried to get Madam Hooch to give the win to Hufflepuff for ‘wanton destruction of school property’ but Diggory- he’s the Captain of the ‘Puffs- shut him down and supported Madam Hooch’s ruling.”

Harry huffed in amusement, at both the information and the byplay between his old friends.  “Remind me to thank Diggory, then.”

“Of course!”  Ron agreed with a bright, happy grin before he turned his attention to the Slytherin sitting at Harry’s bedside.  “What are _you_ doing here snake?”

“He’s _my friend_ he’s allowed to be here, Weasley.” Harry snapped back with a fair amount of heat before anyone could say anything about Ron’s statement.  But as much as Harry had not meant to lash out at the stricken-looking red-head he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry.  When Ron had tried to attack Blaise, Harry’s intuition had coiled warningly.  On top of the whispers of his intuition that little niggling feeling- that was separate but sort of connected to his intuition?- flared protectively for a moment, causing him to snap, albeit more harshly than he had intended.

The Gryffindors gathered around Harry’s bed looked startled by the vehemence in Harry’s words.  Ron and Hermione, in particular, looked hurt for a moment before the hurt transitioned to a righteous sort of anger.

“You don’t talk to us for a year and this is how you treat us?  You don’t eat with us.  You barely even sleep in the dorm!  Not to mention you avoid us like the plague outside of classes!  And we come to check on you only to find this _snake_ here and you-“  Ron ranted at Harry, an angry flush working its way up his neck as he clenched his fists angrily.

Harry leaned forward and his eyes seemed to blaze like emerald fire as he pinned his Housemates with a ferocious glower. “As I remember, I was ‘the evil snake whisperer’ last year, no one _wanted_ to talk to me.”  Harry steamrolled Ron and Hermione’s attempted protests as the others were simply observing.  “Then you yanked me along to save Ginny, without any regard for my welfare.  Now, I’m glad you’re alright Ginny-”  Harry favored the embarrassed girl with a kind smile, one she tentatively returned- before he persisted.  “- but that incident did not magically renew our friendship, Ron, Hermione.  Nor have I forgotten how pretty much everyone in Gryffindor treated me- especially the lovely rumors that people were _kind_ enough to make sure I heard.” 

Harry gave all of the gathered Gryffindors a flat, level stare that remained distant even as they shuffled uneasily and traded quick, guilty glances among themselves. 

“But, Harry-“

“Then, I get injured and you come storming in here and insult Blaise like you have some sort of claim to me- like a book or broom or something?”  Harry spoke as if he hadn’t heard Hermione’s protests, but damn it all the treatment he had been subject to by his Housemates _hurt_.  ‘ _Your House is your family, my ass._ ’  Harry thought sourly as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center himself and keep the conversation constructive. “I am so irritated I can’t even _think_ right now.  Thank you for telling me what happened and checking up on me after such a nasty fall, but please leave.  This isn’t the time or the place for this argument.”

“You’re _different_ Harry!”  Hermione burst out agitatedly, her brown eyes teary and soulful as she leveled an unhappy frown at the bed-bound teen. “You’re changing and I can barely recognize you!  Please, we can-“

“You can what?  We’re _teenagers_ , Hermione, we’re supposed to change!”  Harry barked out bitterly as he desperately pushed his temper back.  He was trying very hard to not just _snap_ at all of them- most of them truly only wanted to see how he was doing after such a nasty fall, he could tell- but it was hard.  Harry grabbed onto some forced calm from the little niggling feeling behind his diaphragm as he tried to keep himself composed.  “We grow, we mature, and we start ourselves on the paths that we will follow for the rest of our lives.  And, no, Ron, I _don’t_ think that having a friend who is both _ambitious_ and _cunning_ constitutes wanting to become a Death Eater or Voldemort the Second!  You really need to think about your ‘all Slytherins are evil’ rhetoric.”

The whole room shuddered at the usage of Voldemort’s name, and Ron and Hermione seemed to realize that maybe Harry needed some time to calm down.

“Well,” Hermione said huffily as she stuffed her hurt down deep and tried to be ‘mature’.  “When you’re ready to _listen_ you know where to find us.  We will be _good friends_ and give you another chance, even though you’re being so ugly to us right now.  Because that’s what _friends_ do for each other- they _listen_ and _forgive_.  And excuse us for _caring_.  Next time you nearly die because _you didn’t listen_ we’ll be sure _not_ to visit you.”  Then she stormed off, Ron following her after he sent one more scathing glare towards Blaise. 

‘ _As if I’m at fault for their actions having consequences_.’  Blaise though disdainfully as he watched the duo leave.

The others shuffled a little uncomfortably and Harry sighed and leaned back.  “Look, I’m not holding last year over everyone’s heads- and I really _am_ glad that you’re alright, Ginny, I know how much you mean to your family- but Ron and Hermione knew me _best_ and they chose to ignore me wheb I needed them.  It’s easier to forgive the rest of you then them, alright?”

He got small smiles and some get-well wishes as most of the group left with just the twins and Ginny staying behind.

“T-thank you!” Ginny squeaked, her cheeks dark red, as she did a strange little half-bow before she seemed to flush even darker and scurried after the others.

Fred and George just looked at Harry critically for several moments.  Harry’s intuition was strangely quiet as he watched them in turn.

“If we agree to stop trying to corner you, will you sit down and talk to us?” Fred- his hair was slightly messier and his left eye had a freckle under it- asked finally, breaking the somewhat tense standoff.

“Can Blaise be there?”  Harry asked after a moment.  He had narrowed his eyes slightly and exchanged a quick look with Blaise before answering Fred, trying to understand what his intuition and that weird new feeling- that was not quite his intuition but almost- were trying to tell him.

The twins had one of those silent exchanges that they were so good at before George answered. “Fine.”

“Deal.”  Harry said as he held out his undamaged hand.

The twins shook his hand seriously and left.

“Hey, Adi.”  Blaise drawled amusedly after they had spent a few minutes in deep thought.

“Yeah Blaise?”  Harry replied tiredly.

“I’m pretty sure that you flipped your shit because we Harmonized.”  Blaise said somewhat uncertainly as he looked down at his own hand as he repeatedly made a fist and then uncurled it.  Something like wonder or delight or perhaps both danced in his dark eyes and it showed in his somewhat reverent tone of voice.

“ _Fuck.”_   Harry swore as suddenly everything _clicked_. 

As if it was laughing at him, his intuition sort of stepped aside and there, in that place behind his diaphragm, the little niggling sensation blossomed into a bright ribbon of Flame.  Harry focused on it and he was somewhat awed to note that he could nearly perfectly visualize Blaise dark purple Flames pulsing in time with his own heartbeat.  It was different and would take some definite getting used to but it was…..incredible.  To connect with someone so deeply that they became an actual part of him.  It was strange and new and scary but- _oh_ , was it _glorious_.

“Yeah, I was quiet ‘cause I really wanted to go all _Prince_ on them.” Blaise told him, slightly confused by the new instincts that he just realized hadn’t always been there.  “I can _definitely_ see what Luss meant by ‘stupid’ and ‘stupid people’ not being my jam, though.”  Blaise huffed a slightly manic laugh as he looked up at Harry.

“….I admire your restraint.”  Harry sniggered as he tossed a lopsided grin at his friend.  He was also realizing that his instincts had shifted slightly without him being aware.  Suddenly he was aware of Blaise in much the same way he was aware of himself.

It was sort of disorienting but bloody wicked at the same time.

“It’s nice to be appreciated.” Blaise told him blandly as they both waited a beat before bursting out in laughter, high off their Harmony and the deep bond that now intimately connected them.

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After some conferring, it was decided that ‘The Talk’ with the twins would take place over the Spring hols, since the Weasleys would be staying at the Castle. 

After the incident in the Infirmary Harry had avidly avoided Ron and Hermione, but now stopped to say hi or walk to class with a Housemate while making light conversation with them when the two were not pursuing him.  It seemed they vacillated between desperately wanting to talk to him and ‘explain things’ and ‘work things out’ or purposefully ignoring his existence and glaring.  Harry noted that Hermione was looking absolutely _haggard_ , though.  He mentioned as much to Blaise- who had proceeded to go into ‘scheming bastard’ mode- so Harry had let him be.

It was not that he hated his old friends he was just leery of rekindling their ‘old’ friendship when so much had changed for him.  The fact that his intuition grew cold whenever he thought about talking to them about his chosen path also contributed to his reluctance.

Harry had tried the previous year to keep up his friendship with Hagrid.  As lovable and friendly as Hagrid was, however, the man was easily swayed by anything with ‘Slytherin’ in the name or about the ‘Chamber of Secrets’.  So Harry had been disappointed, but unsurprised, when the man had been so leery of him that visiting Hagrid was stressful for them both.  Somehow Harry’s decision to not take Care of Magical Creatures had somehow turned personal, and the friendly giant from his birthday was mostly a distant memory- especially with Harry’s open friendship with a Slytherin student becoming widely known.

Harry knew that something had happened in one of the first classes and that Malfoy was involved- and that Ron and Hermione were helping the fledgling Professor- but Harry didn’t understand how that translated into the girl looking like she hadn’t slept in years.

Until, that is, Blaise came sauntering into the Room one day, a Cheshire grin on his face and a necklace in his hands.

“Guess what I got!”  Blaise sang cheerily as he tossed the necklace at a bemused Harry.

“It’s so pretty Blaise, but I don’t think that we’ve reached the gift giving stage of our relationship.” Harry deadpanned as he examined the thing while Blaise threw himself on his favorite couch in an elegant, effortless motion that _still_ made Harry envious.

“Only for _you_ , darling.” Blaise purred facetiously, batting his eyes at Harry in faux-coquettish manner.

Harry gave his Cloud Guardian- and that thought still sent happy tendrils of warmth curling all the way to his toes and back- a flat stare.  “Uh huh.  A story for the poor Gryffindor?”

Blaise huffed theatrically and spread out his hands melodramatically.  “No appreciation!”  He pouted outrageously before the look gave way to an evil little grin. “That necklace happens to be a Time Turner.”  He announced smugly.

Harry nearly dropped the rather gaudy golden trinket with the tiny hourglass in the center.  “ _What?”_

“A Time Turner.” Blaise repeated wittily.  “A relatively old project from the Department of Mysteries, or as they are better known as, the Unspeakables.  They were trying to invent a device that travels Time and Space- and they managed to fold Time but anything beyond that was beyond them.  They eventually defunded the project, but Time Turners are occasionally used by students or trainees who need to be in two places at once.”

“So why weren’t they used in the War or for a bunch of other stuff?” Harry asked in absolute bewilderment.

“You cannot go back in Time farther than seven hours within twenty-four hours and as it only _folds_ Time, so you cannot, for instance, save someone who died with your future knowledge as Time will correct itself once your past-self merges back with your present-self.”  Blaise explained patiently, sitting up and propping his chin on his palm as he stared at Harry and the trinket.  “Also, too many folds at the same time will cause Time to wholly reject the wrinkles and shatter the Time Turners- so they can only be used sparingly and are guarded closely.”  Blaise paused and made a disgruntled sort of face.  “My guess is that Granger is using the thing to research for the Groundskeeper _and_ take all the Elective Classes.  She probably isn’t factoring the extra hours for sleep, like an _idiot_.”

Harry looked contemplative for a moment.  “Won’t she get in trouble for not having this?”  He felt slightly bad about getting the girl in serious trouble with the Ministry as a Muggleborn.  He had a much greater appreciation for just how skewed the laws were from many nights listening to Blaise ramble on about history and such.

“Most likely.”  Blaise admitted with a grimace as he leaned back and settled a bit more comfortably on the couch.  “But at the rate she’s been going she’s liable to suffer a psychotic break sooner rather than later.  Time Turners use magic _and_ life force- or vitality- both of which are replenished by sleep.  If she has not been factoring in sleep properly since the beginning of the year, then by now she is dangerously close to becoming senselessly irrational, a comatose Flobberworm or a mixture of both.”

“Well, we could keep it until the end of the hols and then mail it back?”  Harry asked, white faced at the idea of poor Hermione driving herself so far past the point of exhaustion she suffered irreparable mental trauma.  “I don’t really like her at the moment- she’s been particularly unreasonable in the Common Room as of late, according to the glimpses I’ve gotten and good ‘ol Gryffindor rumors- but I don’t want her to get in major trouble like this with the Ministry- especially as a Muggleborn.”

Blaise sighed in fond exasperation as he languidly eyed Harry, who was fiddling with the spinning rings of the little device.  “I suppose.  I’ll slip away to the OwlExchange in Hogsmeade and owl it back to your Head of House- whom I am sure is who petitioned for it from the Ministry for Granger; McGonagall used to be a top notch Auror you know?- with a note about how we are concerned fellow classmates concerned about Granger’s publically declining health.”

“No, I didn’t know that McGonagall used to be an Auror.  Suits her, though.”  Harry mused as he looked up at his friend with a rather mischievous grin.  “But, you know, the hols start _tomorrow_ , and I am sure we can get the twins to slip us to Hogsmeade without getting caught near the end of the break- so why don’t we keep it warm for our dear Professor until then?”

Blaise’s return smile was nearly feral.  “So many _glorious_ possibilities.”  He drawled animatedly.

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Blaise and Harry did not want to actually give away the secret of the Room, so Harry collected the twins from the Common Room and Blaise let them in the already transformed Room when they arrived.  The twins whistled in appreciation and settled themselves on one of the side couches as they prepared for the coming conversation.

“So, you see-“

“-we’re really-“

Harry sighed in mild frustration before he spoke.  “Guys, I know you like to use that method of talking to confuse people, but Blaise and I are well aware that you-”  He pointed at one of the startled red-heads and smirked lightly. “-are Fred and you-”  Here he pointed to the other redhead, the smirk still firmly affixed to his lips. “-are George.  While your twin speak is amusing to watch to people who can’t tell you apart, we _can_ and we appreciate you as _individuals_ , so please _talk like it_.”

Fred and George had gone rigid and Blaise had subtly angled himself to intercept any attacks on his Sky.  The twins’ magic would likely preclude them from ever becoming Flame Active but that did not matter to Blaise’s intuition, so he was especially on edge.

“What- “ Fred spoke lowly, something wounded and dangerous behind his cool blue eyes. “-makes you think that you’re right.  Our mother can’t even tell us apart.”

 _Important.  Lost.  Drifting_.  Harry did not need his intuition whisper that first little tidbit, but the fact that it did and then added the rest just made him all the more determined to prove his point.  “You, Fred, have slightly messier hair, a freckle under your left eye, and your voice is a bit more gravelly than George’s voice.” 

“You, Georgie darling, have a natural part in your hair that makes it lay neater than our dear Freddie’s hair.”  Blaise continued fluidly, not even needing eye contact to pick up on Harry’s train of thought.  “You, George, also tend to get lost in your thoughts more frequently, and your voice is a lighter tenor compared to your dear twin.”

Fred and George looked absolutely disconcerted for a while and Harry just sat back and watched them carefully as he tried to discern any new warnings from his intuition.  Beside Harry, Blaise still ready for any unexpected attacks, but he otherwise did nothing to disturb the suddenly fragile atmosphere.

“We—well-ah, _bloody hell_!” Fred finally burst out, springing to his feet to pace, even as George slipped further into himself.  It was strange to see the fierce Weasley twins so _vulnerable._

Fred finally turned to face them and Harry was mildly horrified by the helpless anger in his eyes.  “Do you have _any_ idea how long we’ve waited for people to see _actual differences_ in us?  Charlie and Bill try, but they only get it right about half the time- but-but you saw _differences_!  You saw Fred and George!”

George spoke up cautiously from his hunched position. “It’s not that we don’t like being twins.  We do, I can’t imagine my life without Freddie, it’s just hard, you know?  To never be seen as people to our family- we’re just Gideon and Fabian Prewett’s legacy to them.  Whenever we tried to do different things we would get comments about being grateful that we both had magic and then we would have to sit through stories of twins who were always so in synch they could finish each other’s thoughts.”  George’s smile was a thin, brittle thing.  “As if not liking something the other really likes- like a sauce or a hobby or anything- somehow made us ungrateful or something.”

“As if being individuals was somehow shameful to our uncles- to our mum.”  Fred gave Harry and Blaise a pained, haunted grin.  “Mum nearly died during labor, you know?  Magical backlash.  They couldn’t repair all the damage from our birth, not even with magic.  It made Ron and Ginny’s deliveries really, really tense and why she and dad stopped after seven.  They had always wanted ten kids, but because of us they had to stop at seven.”

Harry leaned forward a little as he took in the usually cheerful twins.  True, a lot of their pranks skirted the line to harassment- and some were plainly abusive towards their targets- but to see them as they were right then- weighted down by expectations and carrying a not inconsiderable amount of misplaced guilt- was, well, bizarre and upsetting. 

“Who?”  Harry asked at the gentle insistence of his intuition.  “You mentioned uncles?”

Fred sat back down beside his brother and indolently kicked his feet up on the table, “Gideon and Fabian Prewett were mum’s older brothers and the pride of the Prewett family.  Our mother’s family.”

“There were two married couples and a spinster aunt on that side of the family.”  George continued, bitterness bleeding into the tone despite his obvious sense of affection for the people he was describing.  “Only one of the couples had children- Gideon, Fabian, and Molly.  The brothers died in an ambush and even then they took down over half of the dozen Death Eaters sent to kill them before they died.”  George and Fred gave Blaise a sort of uncertain but challenging look as George’s voice trailed off at the end.

Harry spoke up then- kind but firm.  “Blaise’s father fought for the Death Eaters to save his wife and son. My parents died banishing their Master, Volde-trash. We’re friends. We’re not our parents, so _don’t_ needle him about the Blood War.”

Fred and George looked a little abashed and Fred hurried to continue.  “Sorry, habit, really.  Spiffing name for Lord Voldyshorts, though.”   Fred grinned good-naturedly at Harry before continuing.  “Anyways, he’s George Fabian, and Uncle Fabian was his Godfather.  I’m Fredrick Gideon and Uncle Gideon was my Godfather.” 

“We remember them a little, but Mum went to _pieces_ when they died.”  George smoothly took over the storytelling, earning a affectionately exasperated eyeroll from Harry.  “Bill had to take care of Percy and Ron a lot, so Charlie usually got stuck with us more often than not.  Charlie only knew so many stories and we only had so many books he could read, so he ended up talking to us about Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian as bedtime stories or to keep us quiet. 

“Mum was pregnant with Ginny, but she was having a pretty rough pregnancy.”  Fred chipped in, his troubled eyes firmly affixed to the surface of the wooden table that set in the center of the sitting area.  

“Dad was stressed and working so much overtime it seemed like he was never home.  Everything-well, it just seemed like everything was falling apart.”  George added with a grimace as he gave Harry a sad half-smile.  “She spent almost the entire last month of her pregnancy at Saint Mungoes and Gin-Gin came about three weeks early.  It was pretty intense there for a while.”

“So, after she and Ginny came home, we started pulling pranks to sort of lighten the place up a bit.  Mum would swoop in and yell at us, but at least she wasn’t crying into our Uncles’ old shirts in the Nursery anymore.”  Fred shrugged uncomfortably, glancing up furtively before he turned his eyes back to the wood of the table. “And then we just woke up one day as Fred-n-George instead of ‘Fred’ and ‘George’ and it’s just……been that way.”

“We _like_ making people laugh and knocking prats down a few pegs, but-“ George’s face scrunched up in thought as he failed to find the proper words.  “I mean, we just wanted mum to laugh and for things to go back to normal, but sometimes I wish we’d just let things play out.  At least then we would still be able to be ourselves sometimes.”

“You’ve lost your way.” Harry said slowly, his intuition whispering secrets as he looked at the two elder teens.  Harry could not imagine trying to help and then being unintentionally punished for it.  “Your original purpose was to help your family laugh again but in doing that then you somehow lost your individual identities.  I can almost _feel_ the pressure to live up to your Uncles’ reputations rolling off of you.  You mentioned being told to be ‘grateful’?”

“Yeah, you know how magical twins work, right?”  George asked somewhat questioningly.

“He does.”  Blaise interjected in his usual lazy drawl, but his eyes were sharp as he carefully eyed the twin teens.  “My great-uncle was a Grounding Twin.”

“He’s entirely nonmagical then?”  Fred queried curiously his eyes finally leaving the table and rising to meet Blaise’s own.

Harry knew that something subtle had happened- that he very much missed- but suddenly the tension in the room relaxed to a reasonable level.

“Aah.  He is.”

“Huh.”  George murmured as he uncurled a bit and looked at Blaise for a long moment before he switched his gave back to Harry.  “Anyways, it’s one of mum’s favorite scoldings.  Especially when we were a lot younger.”

“Prattling on and on about how we should be ‘grateful’ for being magical twins and going on tangent about how ‘lucky’ we are and ‘Aren’t you glad that your brother has magic?  You should be proud to be so alike!’.”  Fred’s voice trilled into a fair impression of the Weasley matron at her angriest at all the right parts.  “My personal favorite is ‘How would you feel if you had to live with the knowledge that you had robbed Georgie of his magic?  You need to work hard so that you can show how grateful you are to have your twin with you, that he has his magic’.”  Fred shrugged.  “There’s lots of others, but they all run together after a while.”

“It’s not that she really meant to hurt us.”  George hurried to explain after he noted Harry’s displeased expression.  “She just….well, I think she was trying to teach us something, but went about it all wrong.”

“Still.”  Harry said in a displeased tone of voice before he shook his head and guided the conversation back towards the topic at hand. “I imagine when you came to Hogwarts things got a bit better but also worse.  Worse because you _do_ enjoy pranking people and making them laugh, but at the same time people _expect_ you to do it- and to do it unrepentantly- no matter how much trouble you get in for it.  Or whom you get in trouble with, really.  I fancy that makes you angry which makes you cross lines that you should not- which makes people angry at you- which only makes you angrier at them.

“It’s a vicious cycle.”  Blaise mused shrewdly.

“Exactly!”  Harry pronounced decisively.  “Seriously, how is that even fair?  Not to mention you’re really getting it from all sides- with the amount of time you spend in Detention it leaves little time for you to do your actual schoolwork properly.  I imagine your grades suffer for it, which is yet another point of contention at home.”

Fred and George were staring at him with a strangely intense expressions.  Beside Harry, Blaise let out a fondly aggravated sigh and levelled Harry with a long-suffering, amused glower.  ‘ _Really?’_   His Cloud Guardian’s eyes seemed to say, the sentiment resounding through the link they shared clearly.

 _‘Not my fault!’_   Harry tried to convey with his eyes- and through their bond- but he really did not think that Blaise was buying it.

“What are you two talking about?” George asked curiously.

“Hmm?”  Harry asked, startled out of his eye-bond conversation with his lightly annoyed- but mostly amused- Guardian.

Fred grinned roguishly.  “Georgie and I do that all the time, mate!  It’s a mark of how close you are that you can do it too, but what were you talking about?”

Harry gave them a calculating stare, spending a long moment digging deep into his intuition.  Eventually- just as the silence started to stretch on a tad bit too long to be polite- Harry grinned roguishly and learned forward conspiratorially.  “What do you know about an Incumbent Vow?”

Blaise choked with laughter in the background.  Harry was mildly annoyed when his Guardian’s bond thrummed with a strange mix of _I told you_ so and _your luck is incredible, and not always in a good way_.

An hour, some interesting history from Blaise, and sealed contract later Harry laid out the basics.  “Sometimes magicals can access a secondary power, called the Flames of the Dying Will or the Dying Will Flames.  It’s rarely seen as our magic usually saves us or we die.  Not to mention Flames are of the soul and so-called ‘soul magic’ is so feared even mentioning it can get a person Kissed.”

“But some muggles can use these Flame-thingies too, right?”  George asked interestedly, leaning forward as his eyes sparkled with cat-like curiosity.

“Bill, our eldest brother, is a Cursebreaker.”  Fred added as Harry and Blaise’s rather disconcerted looks.  “He’s mentioned to us- nowhere near mum, though, _thank Merlin_ \- that they- the Cursebreakers- find things that reference a strange fire-like power sometimes.  Usually that sort of stuff is nonmagical and gets turned over to the muggles.  But Bill has believes that we’re not the only secret society in the world, because those artifacts _vanish_.

“Bills put some pretty intricate tracking charms on a few of the magical ones- putting charms on the ones turned over to the nonmagicals could land him in serious hot water with both the law and Gringotts- but those just up and vanish, too.”  George added eagerly on the heels of his brother’s explanations.  “And no matter what sort of tracking spell or ritual or spell-ritual hybrid he tries to locate the missing artifacts, something _almost like_ magic obscures all the results, making them useless.”

Harry made a mental note to inform Xanxus- actually, _screw that_ , he was going to inform _Squalo_ about all this crap. 

Resolutely pushing aside any thoughts of his _impending doom_ , Harry quickly steered the conversation back to Flames.  He went on to explain to the wide-eyed twins that he and Blaise both were ‘Flame Active’ and what that meant.  Blaise injected a few times along the way but eventually Harry had covered all the Flame types and their usual characteristics.

“My mentor thinks that my being Flame Active might change things.”  Harry explained after they had taken a short break and gotten some drinks and food out of the basket Blaise had procured earlier while Harry had been fetching the twins.  “He and his researchers think that my being Flame Active might call those who are Flame Latent to me.  People who would normally never have become Flame Active without a catalyst- because of magic or whatever- so that my Guardians are ‘of the same feather’.”

“Birds of a feather flock together.”  Fred added agreeably after taking the time to swallow his large bite of chicken salad.  “Makes sense.”

“Yeah!”  Harry perked up at the affirmation and launched into the next part of the explanation. “Anyways because I am Sky, my mentor thinks that my magic will call out to compatible magicals to be my Guardians.  I mean, like with anything, personal decisions and general compatibility factor in- but Flames are of the _soul_.  My _sorella_ says that Flames are the most authentic manifestation of a person- of who they truly are, without any masks or misdirection.  Barring any Mist intervention- and the Mist would have to be seriously strong, nearly legendary to mask or believably mimic a person’s Flame- they cannot lie.”

Blaise- who had read much, much more of Esper and Levi’s compiled research than Harry- took up the narrative from there and explained how the researchers had found data that supported the theory that magical Skies seemed call out to magic-capable Guardians.

“The research is still in the preliminary stages, really.”  Blaise effused around his precariously loaded roast beef sandwich. “But what they’ve found thus far seems to support the theory that if a magical Sky becomes Flame Active, magic seems to try to ensure that the Sky’s Guardians are magic users as well.  Even though the research is still relatively new, thus far the data has not once contradicted the theory.  As they gain access to information we’ll get a more complete picture.”

Harry and Blaise very carefully did _not_ mention the Mafia. They did not want to see the inside of the Vindicare or face Xanxus, in that order.  They did, however, do their best to hint that Flame users were more likely to get involved in fighting injustice as opposed to the general passivity of usual magicals.  Harry and Blaise figured that with the Incumbent Vow in place and the Secrecy Vow that all magicals lived under they could give away that much- especially as Blaise had worded the Vow as tightly as possible.

Even though they had started the conversation at half past eight in the morning, by the time all was said and done it was an hour to curfew before the twins took their leave.

“I’ve gotta text Squalo.”  Harry moaned miserably after the twins had left and he and Blaise were once again alone.

Blaise gave him an overly bright smirk.  “Shouldn’t you text our fearless Leader?”

Harry chucked a pillow at his Cloud’s head and did not see any reason to reply to such an offensive comment.  “ _Prat_.”  He mumbled pitifully as he tried to smother himself with one of the couch’s throw pillows.

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It was late the next night- just as he was nearly asleep- that he got a reply from Squalo.

―SS― **VOI!**   The _hell_ , kitty!  I dodge enough wineglasses!  Shitty Boss says that you did well, even if you reported to the wrong damn person. And that he was going to make me reply anyways.  Lazy ass damn Boss.  Anyway, keep to Omertá.  Even if they go Flame Active and bond with you.  Boss still thinks that- based on the research- your magic is actively searching for compatible Guardians.  Gaining a full complement of Guardians usually takes years, but we think that as a Shattered Sky your magic is trying to get you your full complement of Guardians faster, to help you heal more completely _._ ―

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Blaise and Harry occasionally met with the twins Room over the remainder of the Spring hols.  Well, the twins would show up at the Room and Blaise and Harry would let them inside.   

All four teens were all rather amused by McGonagall’s response to receiving the Time Turner at breakfast with the note.  Granger- going by what she had told Ron, which the twins had shamelessly eavesdropped on- had been called to the Gryffindor’s Head of House’s office later that same day and forced to choose three- and only three- Elective Classes.  The twins also reported that the girl had been storming around in a massive snit ever since.  Randomly cornering her Housemates and interrogating them, trying to find who had stolen her ‘important necklace’.

A few weeks into term Blaise informed them- the twins just kept showing up- that the Headmaster had stepped in and bought the animal that had ‘mauled’ Malfoy to prevent it from being executed.

“Malfoy has been utterly _intolerable_ in the Common Room ever since.”  Blaise complained exaggeratedly to his chortling audience.  “If I hear the words ‘my father’ or ‘friends with the minister’ or ‘dangerous barbarian’ one more _bloody_ time……”

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Late in April, Harry received a displeasing message from Xanxus.

―XV―We’re working on a plan, but a very dead former underling of the Varia let the rat-trash escape.  We found on the security tapes- the backup ones, the trash destroyed the ones in the room itself-  the fucker hid a second wand inside his Flame Brand somehow.   Fortunately Esper has been wiping his mind after each session, so all he remembers is his shitty cell and not who had him or why.  Esper can track him so we’re letting him run around, hoping that he’ll lead us to his trash boss.  Keep your guard up, shitty brat.  Don’t be fucking stupid, either. _―_

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Late in May, on a particularly chilly late afternoon, Harry was on one of his meandering walks around the castle without Blaise.  While they were both comfortable with their bond, Blaise had wanted to ensure that time spent apart did not cause them distress so they were trying to build up a tolerance to being separated from each other.  Just in case.  So Harry would take long, rambling walks- trying to refine his ability to react to his intuition- around the Castle itself while Blaise found a spot on the Grounds or holed up in the Slytherin Common Room.

It was while he was passing through a particularly dust corridor that Harry came across a particularly adorable little blonde from Ravenclaw.  After a few minutes of trying to make sense of _what_ his intuition was trying to tell him, he was positively _heartbroken_ when he realized that she had suffered from Flame Rejection.  She was a Flame Active Rain- with either a hint of Mist or an overactive imagination and eager magic- and the Flames just _poured_ off of her, indicating that her Rejection was Uncontained. 

{“ _You got lucky sweetling!”  Lussuria informed Harry brightly after a long day of training.  “Uncontained Rejections usually don’t last a week before their Flames run dry and they self-destruct.  Usually rather spectacularly.  Contained Rejections can live their entire lives with their Rejection- but it usually negatively affects their ability to live and function.  Most tend to be out of touch with reality- and some Flames handle Rejection better than others.  Almost every Storm Rejection ever recorded has to be ‘dealt with’.  Unfortunately the poor dears tend to want to take the rest of the world with them in their reckless quest of total annihilation.  Mists tend to be fairly visible- and destructive- in their rejection as well.  Rains tend to be the most docile of all the Flame types in regards to Rejection, but the usually appear to be excessively ditzy and very out of touch with reality_.}

Harry gently escorted the blonde-  “ _Luna, Luna Lovegood_.”- to the Kitchens.  While the pleased girl was animatedly chatting with the elves about what sort of goodies she would like in her to-go basket, Harry quietly requested that the House Elves please find her things and return them to her.  Once the delighted blonde had her basket Harry had insisted on escorting her back to Ravenclaw Tower.  Once she was safely inside the Ravenclaw Common Room he quickly made his way back to his bed so he could text Squalo.

―SB―Squalo!  I found a Rain, but she’s suffering from an Uncontained Rejection!  I think maybe her magic is helping keep her from burning out?  I know she’s not eligible to be a Guardian, but is here anything that I can do for her?  She comes off as extremely absentminded and might have a twinge of Mist Flames or just a really unique imagination, but she’s extremely smart.  Is there anything that I can do to help her?―

It wasn’t long before he received a reply, but surprisingly it was from Lussuria.

―LS―That’s a question for me, sweetling!  I don’t blame you for asking Squalo first, though- he is a Rain.  Anyhoo!  I’d need to infuse Sun Flames into some amethyst jewelry after I have Squalo anchor some stable Rain Flames into them.  Well, there is some Mist trickery that goes on as well, but it is really technical and boring.  I’m pretty busy right now and she seems like she’ll need a full set, but I’ll get some done and send them to you at the scum of the earth’s house, so you can send them to her.―

―SB―Thank you, Lussuria!  Thank Squalo, too.  Actually, I’ve got plenty of cash from that Lockhart jerk last year.  I’d forgotten all about that until now, actually. If I can get to the Alley to get some money to send you- or I could just get the pieces for you.  Well, how do I send it to you?  Either or?  I don’t want to end up on some crappy watch list!  What type of amethyst jewelry do you need?  And don’t tell me not to!  This isn’t really a family matter, and I know you’re not going to charge me for your expertise like you should.  Let me help, _sorella_ ―

―LS―I won’t charge you labor because you are my favoritest little brother.  But since I know you’re sending me cash- it would be better for me to pick out the pieces personally, sorry hun!- I’ll hold off so I can make her nicer ones.  Ones that will last her for years.  With the pieces she will slowly heal, but she will most likely always be a bit absentminded.  I’ll have to talk to Squalo or Boss about how you’re going to send the money to me, though!  Boss might want you to do something specific.  On a related note, you do know how I adore chocolate, yes?  And your Cloudy Guard told us all about that one store……―

Harry grinned at his phone, silently swearing to have Blaise but Lussuria half Honeyduke’s chocolate stock.  Perhaps some butterbeer as well.

Just before he decided to turn in, Squalo sent him a text message.

―SS―  VOI kitty!  Mammon has got a job in England and will be bringing your dog by for a visit a week after you go back to the scum’s house, so you have a week to get the cash.  Boss said to take as close to half of the total cash as you can.  He also swore prolifically and told me that he was going to beat your ass for not properly emphasizing how much you inherited from the Lockhart scum.  Mammon and the mutt are only staying for the day, but Esper will take a cut of the money- he’s a miser midget, our Mammon- and bring the rest of it back to Italy put it in a bank account- or several, depending how much you have- in Xanxus’ name.  Shitty Boss will give Luss the funds to buy the shit he needs for the baby Rain.―

A few minutes later Harry got another message.

―SS―  VOI!  Miss me, kitty?  Boss- because he’s too lazy to fucking type his own damn messages- says if you have anything else from that Lockhart trash you want us to hold to give it to Mammon.  We’ll be having WEATHER operatives or your mutt go through it all unless otherwise specified, so let us know if you want to keep anything to yourself. ―

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Harry bribed Blaise to buy him more chocolate than necessary- or wise, really- during the final Hogsmeade visits of the year.

Even though the Dursleys had signed his permission slip, Harry had not been allowed to venture into the village, due to the fervor over Sirius Black.  Harry had been nearly as amused as he had been frustrated at the way the Headmaster has tip-toed around the issue.

At any rate Harry had enough chocolate goodies stored inside his trunk to start his own business.

During the final five weeks left of term Harry made a concentrated effort to find Luna at least once a day.  They would wander around and chat- well, Luna would do most of the cheerful chattering- while Harry would gently try to Harmonize her Flames a little.  Her Flames was far too far gone to Harmonize as a Guardian, but Harry had gotten the hang of his Sky abilities enough to project the Harmony effect a little, which seemed to help calm her Rejection a little.

Of course, a year at Hogwarts could never be complete without an end-of-year adventure.

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The final week of term was always party-heavy.  Exams were over and done with which meant the ‘We-Survived-OWLs-Parties’ that the Fifth Years were having- not to mention the ‘We-Survived-NEWTS’ and ‘We’re Graduating’ parties going on amongst the Seven Years- were castle-wide events that spilled over into the younger years.

As the premier providers of all things contraband the Weasley twins’ skills- and merchandise- were in high demand.

So- in retrospect- it was only a matter of time before the sneaky menaces got caught.

Unfortunately, the night their luck ran out involved _Snape_. 

Having snuck out to circle around the Castle on the outside- to avoid Prefect and Professor patrols on their way to rendezvous with some ‘customers’- the twins had ended up nearer to Hagrid’s hut than planned.

Fortunately after their rather sizable transaction had been concluded, they would later proclaim.

That still left the twins with little to no cover as Snape triumphantly bore down onto them.   

The twins had then- rather predictably- booked it.

Unfortunately the twins headed towards the Forbidden Forrest instead of the Castle.

Harry and Blaise had been waiting for the diabolic duo in the shadows of one of the stone walkways near one of the smaller side-exists of the Castle.  When Blaise pointed out the fleeing twins running towards the Forrest with Snape chasing them, Harry had merely huffed an exasperated laugh and pulled out his Cloak.  Once both he and Blaise were under the Cloak- Blaise was tall enough that they had to hunch to be entirely covered- they lit their wands and shuffle-ran their way towards the direction the twins were running in.

Naturally, disaster struck once they were completely out of sight of the Castle and yet still quite a ways away from the Forrest’s edge.

Dementors melted out of the shadows of the Forrest, their foul presence filling the area with overpowering sense of dread and lending an unnatural chill to the air. The swirling black wraiths were doing their best to get to the twins. 

Harry and Blaise paused atop a small outcropping above the altercation- which was in a nook on the blind side of the Lake- and threw off the Cloak so they could move faster.  Both twins were on the ground, one twin cradling the other on his lap as he tried to wake the unresponsive twin up.  Snape’s bright, silvery-white doe _Patronus_ was keeping the fiends off the twins but not much more than that.   The circling, ravenous vultures converged and began to push the _Patronus_ back, tightening the circle like a hangman’s noose.  

As he and Blaise ran faster, Harry took a moment to lament his trouble with the _Patronus_ Charm.  Professor Lupin had shown them the charm several weeks ago- his took the form of a wolf- but Harry just could not get it quite right when he tried to cast it.

Then the light of Snape’s _Patronus_ winked out of existence and the swarm surged forward.

Suddenly, a bright splash of Storm Flames flared, quickly followed by an equally strong burst of Lightning Flames.  The brilliant red and green Flames were a bright splash of color against the unnatural black of the Dementor-obscured sky.  Harry was proud to note that the twins’ Flames- because that was how his life worked- had fried about a third of the swarm in a single go.   Even still, the remaining Dementors regrouped and swiftly counter-attacked.

Well, Harry wasn’t having any of _that_.  Especially not when Harry was fairly certain the twins were unconscious due to the strain of Initial Activation.

Later Harry would wonder why Snape had not called for backup.  He understood that those from the Castle could not see them, as they were on the blind side of the Lake, meaning that they were on the lower ground that was obscured from view by the slope of the land.  Hagrid’s hut was a fair distance away as well, so Harry never blamed Hagrid for not seeing anything, either.  But why had Snape held his pride above even his own life?

Near the swarm- just as he and Blaise were noticed- Harry centered himself just like Xanxus had taught him- well, Xanxus had had Squalo chuck reading material at Harry and then demanded essays on that material over the Christmas hols- and _pushed_.

Instead of the rather expected crimson flare of his Storm Flames or even the sunburst color of his Sun Flames, Harry managed to actually pull out his vivid tawny Sky Flames.  The brilliant flickers of soulfire came to life on his hands while a tongue of fire sprang to life at the center of his forehead.

 _‘Everything is so slow.’_   Harry thought rather dazedly as he suddenly _understood_ what Xanxus had been trying to teach him through theory and description.  Directing his Flames, Harry rose in the air and flew towards the Dementors who were trying to feast on the souls of his friends.  Aiming himself while using his Flames to fly was sort of tricky, but the Dementors shrieked in agony and seemed to simply _shatter_ under the barest whisper-pressure from his Sky Flames, so he did not need an overwhelming amount of finesse.

When all the fiends were destroyed or fleeing, Harry landed and allowed his Flames to dissipate.  Immediately he was nearly overcome with exhaustion.

“Come on, Adi, we’ve got to get out of here.”  Blaise insistently coached as the Cloud was suddenly right beside Harry.

Seeing that Harry was beyond exhausted, Blaise took the responsibility of confounding Snape- with the man’s own wand, no less.  It took a steady stream of chatter on Blaise’s part- along with some gentle nudges through their bond- but soon enough Harry had Fred’s arm slung over his shoulders, while Blaise had ahold of George.  They tossed the Invisibility Cloak over them- even though it only covered them from their heads to about their knees- and made for the Room.

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Somehow, in the light of the next day, Snape had made a big deal about Lupin- whose status as a werewolf was let out of the bag by an ‘anonymous source’- being a danger to the students.  According to the rumor mill Lupin had forgotten to take his Wolfsbane Potion and attacked Snape.

Harry felt guilty enough about things to go see the man after Blaise speculated that Lupin was probably packing to avoid the parental backlash that was likely coming as a result of his status as a werewolf.  Blaise had pointed out that even if the part about the man forgetting his Wolfsbane was a lie, rampant prejudice and rumor-fed hysteria would still doom the man’s teaching career.

Harry felt strangely detached as he knocked on the door of the DADA Professor’s office and was bid to enter.

Professor Lupin looked up in surprise at the person who walked into his office. “Mr. Potter?”

“Hey, Professor Lupin.”  Harry smiled a little uncertainly at the man, before deciding to just go with his gut and be blunt.   “Look Professor, you should not have to leave a job that you’re good at just because have a temper control issue once a month.  You’re the best DADA teacher that we’ve ever had!”

Lupin choked out a short laugh as he seemed shed years before Harry’s eyes.  Harry watched curiously as the as tension seemed to melt out of the man’s shoulders, making him seem taller and more youthful.  “Tha-at’s one way to put it, I guess, Ha-Mr. Potter.”

“You had a personal connection with my parents, didn’t you?”  Harry asked as his intuition lurched and he latched onto the slip in formality.

“Excuse me?”  Lupin asked warily.

“You’re unfailingly polite and formal, almost excruciatingly so.”  Harry pointed out levelheadedly.  “So the only reason why you would try to be so familiar with me is if you had a personal connection with me.  So who was your friend- my mum or my dad?  Lily Evans or James Potter?”

The man stared at the teenager for a long moment, before letting out a short, bitter, broken noise.  “I knew James best, but Lily and I were close as well.  After-well, _everything_ , I couldn’t be near you because of the Blood Wards and my being a ‘Dark Creature’-“

“Bullocks.”  Harry coughed into a fist, grinning impishly around his tightened fist.  Lupin smiled wanly, but continued without acknowledging the interruption.

“-and your Magical Guardian’s decision that you have no contact with the magical world as a condition of your placement at your Aunt’s house, which was the safest place for you.  I wanted to reach out to you this year, but you seemed….happy.  I wasn’t sure if you would welcome it.”  Lupin finished rather morosely as he went back to methodically packing his things.

“Is it because I’m friends with a Slytherin?”  Harry asked suspiciously.

Lupin spluttered and turned to face the teen once more.  “Of course not!  Your mother’s best friend- to your father’s chagrin, might I add- for most of her school years was a Slytherin.”

Harry choked and did some quick mental math as he remembered some of Professor Lupin’s encounters with Snape this year, not to mention he present circumstances around Lupin’s resignation.  “Please don’t tell me it was Snape.”

“ _Professor_ Snape, Harry.”  Lupin sang out with far more cheer than Harry felt was necessary.

Harry groaned gloomily and sank into one of the chairs in front of the Professor’s desk so he could pillow his face into his hands in misery.  And at the cruelty of the universe.

Lupin laughed lightly at the sulking teen.  “Anyways, you seemed perfectly happy, and I didn’t want to disturb old wounds.” 

Harry looked at the man carefully as the other made himself busy packing up his office once more.  “I would have liked to have known earlier.”  Harry mentioned carefully as he leaned back in the chair and watched the neat packing magic going on in front of him.  “But I imagine that you are used to people being _idiots_.”

“That is something your mother would have said.”  Lupin told him with a sad, nostalgic smile.  “Actually, that’s very nearly exactly what she said when she found out about my, ah, _temper control issues_.”

“Well, she- and I, apparently- must take up the entire quotient of common sense in this place.”  Harry griped crabbily.

“There you go again!” Lupin exclaimed before he threw his head back and _laughed_.

With the ice well and truly broken, a comfortable ambience developed between them.  So, Harry stayed a while longer enjoying hearing little anecdotes about his parents.  Harry, after Lupin had reluctantly mentioned the time, had stood and readied himself to leave- but only after he had determinedly informed the man the he was more than welcome to send Harry post from now on.

As he stood in the doorway, his back to the Professor, Harry decided to take a chance and actually say something regarding Sirius Black.  “Hey, Professor?”

Lupin made an interested sound even as the man chased down an errant shoe that was refusing to be packed.

“I just thought that you should know that Sirius Black never had a trial.  Furthermore, explosions- even in the magical world- don’t usually vaporize an entire body and leave only a finger behind.  I checked.  Fudge the Incompetent Minister?  He used to be Fudge the Incompetent Employee of Magical Catastrophes, which was the first Department on scene at the explosion.  Shock makes people say a lot of things that can be taken the wrong way, especially by strangers or people looking to assign blame.  Just seemed a little strange to me, is all-  that Black’s possibly grief-fueled, hysterical confession would override the judicial process-  that the crime scene was handled so sloppily.  Anyways, goodnight and safe travels, Professor.”

The teen was long gone before Remus Lupin managed to unfreeze himself enough to shakily sit himself in desk chair and question everything that he had thought that he had known about that devastating night over a decade ago.

_“Sirius…..”_

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Harry and Blaise spent what little time was left before the Summer hols drilling control exercises into the twin’s heads whenever they weren’t emphasizing _exactly_ how comfortable the Vindicare could make seem Azkaban by comparison.  The foursome slinked through halls and passages with the help of the twins’ handy little Map, which saved all four of them a lot of hassle.

The morning after Professor Lupin had taken his leave, Ministry employees invaded the Castle.  They questioned anyone- staff, student, ghost- they could get their hands on about the missing Dementors.  They had tried to corner Harry, especially, about the loss of their Dementors as he was the only magical in recent history to have vanquished one with ‘accidental magic’.

Fortunately, as far as his Housemates knew, Harry had been in bed all evening.  Harry was sort of touched at how his Housemates had been so outspoken about his alibi.

However, even though they could not get ahold of him, some Ministry moron had even tried to _indict_ Harry over the whole issue.

The attempt had been was far more hilarious to Harry than it was to Blaise.  Even the twins had been concerned and unappreciative of the whole incident.

Eventually Dumbledore managed to kick the Ministry out of the castle, much to the relief of everyone.

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Except the Ministry, of course, because out of the one hundred and fifty Dementors that had once guarded Azkaban, one hundred had been sent to Hogwarts School and of them only _seventeen_ returned.  While Dementors were able to reproduce it took nearly twenty five souls consumed or thirty years of concentrated, relentless suffering to spawn a new one.  Those constraints meant that there was no quick fix to the situation and the Aurors were forced to become the dominant presence on the Forsaken Island.  The new duty of guarding Azkaban meant that Fudge was not only unable to decrease the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s budget- he had to _increase_ it, lest the public turn against him.  

Particularly as the Quidditch World Cup was being hosted in England in just a few months’ time.

June of 1994 was not a fun time to be Cornelius Fudge.

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The return Express ride was thankfully free of any emergencies or calamities. 

The twins and their friend Lee Jordan had joined Blaise, Harry, and Luna in Blaise and Harry’s favored compartment.  

Harry had pretty much kidnapped the little blonde the moment they had stepped out of the Thestral-drawn carriages at Hogsmeade Station.  Luna had happily informed Harry and Blaise all about the strange, leathery-skinned beasts-  they looked like leathery deformed, horses with wings to Harry.

“They enjoy raw, bloody red meat.”  Luna informed the two airily as she stroked the milky-eyed animal’s neck fondly.

The group said their goodbyes in the compartment as the train pulled into Kings Cross Station.   Harry had kissed Luna’s forehead and told her to expect a present from him over the summer which had made the normally dreamy girl brighten considerably, allowing Harry a brief glimpse the individual drowning beneath the relentless flood of Tranquility.

Harry met the short, squat man who had come to retrieve him on the nonmagical side of the Barrier. “Mr. Dursley.” He greeted neutrally, idly wondering when Vernon Dursley- the person who had persecuted him the most as a child, at least physically- had become a nonentity, someone barely worth acknowledging.

“Potter.”  Dursley mumbled as he led the teen back towards the car.

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Harry spent the first day of summer hols sleeping in and then smothering Hedwig in affection.

The lovely Snowy Owl soaked up her human’s appropriate worship like the Queen she was- which was to say that she was a puddle of contented owl goo by the time Harry finished his ministrations.

Early in the morning on the second day Harry slipped out of the backdoor under his Cloak.  Once he walked to the same park he had first met Sirius he called for Dobby, who then transported the young man to the Alley.

When Harry had found out about Lockhart’s financial situation last year, he hadn’t truly _appreciated_ the sheer amount of money the trash had accumulated.  While a part of Harry felt a little slimy at using ill-gotten gains, he realized that there was no feasible way to get the money back to the people that Lockhart had cheated.  Moreover it wasn’t _Harry’s_ problem that people wanted to buy the idiot’s merchandise.  Even in the hospital with no memories of his own, the trash’s licensing agreements were upheld by magic.  So, even while doing even less than usual, the proceeds of all of Lockhart’s trademarked crap and merchandise dutifully trickled into the vaults.

Although Harry was conscientious enough to ensure that Lockhart’s medical bills were being paid.

So, after reviewing the amount that had been made compared to this time last year, Harry decided to empty one of the vaults entirely.  So, after draining 500,000 Galleons out of his Lockhart accounts- and having it converted to pounds, Harry was back at Number Four without anyone any the wiser roughly an hour later.

Harry had mostly let Dobby do whatever the elf wanted to do since being freed from the Malfoy family at the end of Second Year.  Harry had explained that while he would call on the elf a few times- as he had- until Harry had a place of his own he really didn’t have anything for Dobby to consistently do, and Harry wanted to keep Dobby a secret in case he ever needed a trump card.

Harry had done a great deal of research on magical travel as well.  Well, Harry and Blaise combined had been able to get a fairly solid grasp on how widely used magical travel methods- Flooing, _Apparition_ , and Portkeys- worked and what their limits were.

For example, the magic depleted when Flooing was akin to taking a leisurely walk around a city block.  A little tiring, perhaps, depending on age and physical fitness, but overall it was rather negligible in terms of body stress. 

 _Apparition_ , on the other hand, was the equivalent to running full stop towards a destination, which took a higher toll on the body.  It was entirely possible to _Apparate_ long distances, but one needed strong magic the more distance travelled.  _Apparition_ used a person’s innate magic to latch on to a ripple in time and space and use it to fold the distance between two places into a single step for a single instant.  It was why noiseless Apparition was so incredibly difficult to master.  The trademark ‘ _crack’_ sound came from the abrupt vacuum left behind when the person _Apparating_ winked out of existence and appeared at their destination a fraction of a moment before they left their original location.  Noiseless Apparition required such fine control that the user disappeared and reappeared in the same exact instant- a tricky and nearly impossible feat for the majority of those who utilized _Apparition_.  Truthfully _Apparition’s_ restrictions could be mostly overcome, but it took a great deal of practice, a familiar proficiency of one’s magic, and a great deal of focus.

Harry did learn that people who screwed up when _Apparating_ \- or _Splinched_ \- usually survived because they sort of ended up trapped in a sort of time exemption for a short while.  It had its drawbacks- and the wounds were notoriously tricky to heal- but the mishap had a high survival rate overall.  Blaise had slyly informed him that it was the unnatural disturbance in time that the Ministry could track, which might come in handy if Harry ever needed that tidbit of information.

Unfortunately, due to the delicate development during pregnancy, pregnant witches were highly discouraged from _Apparating_ \- even as a passenger.  The slightest disturbance in time could potentially cause the witch’s body to accidentally reject the ‘parasite’.  Depending on how strongly the witch’s magic reacted to the internal ‘threat’, a miscarriage was highly probable.

Portkeys were basically an extended, externally stabilized _Apparition_ anchored to an object.  The object leeched equal, predetermined amounts of magic from however many magical sources in direct physical contact at the moment of Activation.  All the passengers of a Portkey must provide equal amounts of magic or the transport will destabilize, meaning that one passenger cannot ‘cover’ for another, as it defies the fundamental Arithmancy of the spell.  A Portkey, having an extra passenger that was not actively providing magic to help keep it stable, could potentially destabilize and explode mid transport.  Even if the Portkey managed to not explode it was entirely probable that it would overcompensate and shatter, causing each individual piece to choose individual, impromptu destinations.

Like the bottom of the Atlantic or at thirty thousand feet over London.  It was possible to survive but the odds were not in the victim’s favor.

House Elf travel, Harry had learned, pulled from both the elf and their ‘Employer’.  While in areas saturated with the elf’s ‘Employer’s’ magic they could travel fairly readily, with little to no effort as they use the saturated environment to their advantage.  Traveling with their ‘Employer’ to a magic saturated destination was also fairly simple, though it took a bit of effort from both the elf and their ‘Employer’.  To travel long distances, however, was more taxing.  Most countries had wards that inhibited unsanctioned international travel and those affected House Elfs to some degree.

From what Dobby had told Harry, if Harry were to make a home in Italy and live there for a number of years Harry’s magic would saturate the area.  That would enable Dobby to travel between the home in Italy and say, one of the Potter properties, with little to no effort.  Traveling without a ‘cheat’ destination was much more difficult for the little elf, but possible.

Still, Harry had no intention of revealing Dobby unless his hand was forced, and he was not particularly fond of asking the little guy to go all the way to Italy by himself, either.

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The next day Harry worked on his summer homework once he had exercised, showered, and eaten, but then his intuition started acting up.

Harry knew it was his intuition and not his bond with Blaise- Harry had been exceedingly careful to not have skin-to-skin contact with either of the Weasley twins since they had awakened their Flames so as to not start the Harmonization process- so just after dinner he sent Xanxus a message.

―SB―My intuition is acting up.  I went and withdrew money yesterday, should I send it with Dobby?  I can’t tell what it’s complaining about, but it feels bad.―

He got a response about an hour later, halfway into his Transfiguration essay.

―XV―Fucking hell, shitty brat!  This morning my shitty old man called me back to Vongola HQ.  Apparently the fucking CEDEF is convinced that they have fucking ‘proof’ that the Varia were involved in Federico’s death and the shitty old man is putting us on lockdown until the fucking trash evidence is ‘reviewed’.  We weren’t- and I damn well know what the fuck that trash organization found because your fucking dog found the information first- but we’re on fucking lockdown right now.  Fortunately, we’re back at Varia HQ for the moment and they can’t fucking monitor us in our own territory, but we’re going to have to pull you back after those shitty fucking Wards charge so that we can catch up with our fucking missions, possibly do some maintenance.―

Harry stared at his phone disbelievingly, anger rearing its head in his chest as he took in the information.  Not about being pulled back to Italy despite the risk of someone discovering him missing from his relative’s house and causing a panic- but that Xanxus’ adopted father would think that Xanxus would have _anything_ to do with Federico’s death.  Harry had spent almost a year with constant nightly contact with Xanxus and it was blatantly obvious that Xanxus had adored Federico- that Harry’s mentor had wanted to be the shadow that protected the other man’s back.  Federico was why Xanxus had joined the Varia in the first place.

Harry thought that it was pretty shitty that Xanxus’ adopted father could not see Xanxus’ side of the story. 

Enrico, Nono’s original heir, had chosen a shitty Sun Guardian who liked to boast about her position and what her Boss liked to do to people who owed him money.  Needless to say, Enrico was not exactly an upstanding paragon of virtues.  Eventually, the Guardian ran her mouth to the wrong person, was killed.  A reasonably talented Mist from a rival Famiglia impersonated her, maneuvering Enrico into a gunfight that he would lose.  If Enrico hadn’t been such a weak Sky he might have been able to tell that the Flame wasn’t real, but he had been the weakest of the brothers.

Massimo was Enrico’s hanger on, the type of man who could be cruel only because someone stronger than him was out in the line of fire.  His Flame was stronger than Enrico’s and that was why the older man had let the sniveling coward hang around.  Squalo, on Xanxus’ order and with Federico’s tacit approval, had actually facilitated Massimo’s death, though he hadn’t had a direct hand in it.

Federico had been Xanxus’ favorite brother, truth be told he had been the reason that Xanxus had originally planned the assault on Vongola HQ - an assault that had become a ‘coup d’état’ only _after_ Xanxus learned that with his favorite brother’s death the Famiglia headship would pass to someone outside of main Vongola line.  The assault on the Vongola HQ had started as a shakeup of Nono’s security- to show the old man that he needed to step up his game, because if his security was lax than the security of all those under him was even _worse_.  But Federico died and then the bastards at CEDEF had pointed finger at Xanxus and Xanxus had decided to run with it, even though Federico had been everything Xanxus had ever wanted as the Vongola Decimo.

Xanxus had not wanted to be the Vongola Boss- even before he learned that he was just a street rat who Nono had taken pity on.  Xanxus just wanted the Vongola to be _strong_.  After Federico’s death the continuation of the Vongola was in question and the rival families smelled weakness, so Xanxus had decided to take drastic measures. 

Harry thought that Xanxus was kind of afraid that the Varia would turn on him and that was why he waited until Nono had used the Zero Point Breakthrough to reveal the information about the truth of his parentage.  Squalo had told Harry most of that part of the story, including the fact that the former Varia Second had warned Nono about the ‘cup’ beforehand. Xanxus and Squalo had known this and let it go, hoping that Nono’s security would put up a fiercer fight and make the rival Famiglia think twice about attacking but the Varia had still blazed through the defenses fairly easily.

Granted, Harry thought that a lot of bloodshed and stupidity could have been avoided if all the idiots involved would sit down and _talk_ to each other.  Though, he could understand Xanxus’ fear that the a weak Decimo would undo all the work of Ottava and Nono had done in moving the Vongola back towards being the right side of the wrong side of the law. 

Xanxus also loathed the leader of CEDEF with the passion of a thousand suns and had heard that the man’s offspring was being considered as a successor.

Who the hell even considers ripping a poor kid from an actual somewhat happy family to run the largest, most powerful, bloodiest Mafia Famiglia in the world?  Especially if Iemitsu Sawada’s blathering was to be believed- seriously, if his kid and wife were supposed to be secrets the idiot should not be talking about them in _Varia-monitored_ lounges.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts and tried to focus.  His reply was brief.

―SB―What do I need to do?―

―XV―Send the elf. Lussuria will make the jewelry and send it back with the elf to make it in time.  Have the elf try to snoop around a little on the plant or the Headmaster is he can manage.  Any forewarning we could get in regards to that situation, the better. I’ll make the flight arrangements for you and send you the details.  Send that owl of yours to your shitty Cloud trash and tell him that as soon as he’s done with his bitch mother to head here, not his Uncle’s house, like we had planned.  Shit is going to be brutal, brat, get your fucking homework done.―

Harry looked at Xanxus’ last message and felt his resolve harden, sharpen.

 _‘One way trip_.’

―SB―Whatever I need to do, Boss.―

―XV―Damn straight, shitty brat.―

Harry immediately wrote Blaise and sent Hedwig off, before calling Dobby and asking the elf to make the trip to Italy.

Six days later a tired, but triumphant Dobby returned, bearing a bright yellow-cloth wrapped package that just felt like Lussuria. “Ise be havings yous prettys, Employer Harry Potter, sirs!”

Harry smiled at the tiny, cheerful being as he crouched down to be eye level with him. “Thank you, Dobby, I really appreciate your hard work!”

“Dobby is being happys to serve Employer Harry Potter, sirs!”  Dobby warbled happily.

Harry gave the elf a critical once-over before gesturing to the wardrobe where the elf had made his home.  Harry had been horrified at first, but Dobby assured him that House Elves loved spaces that resembled burrows.  Eventually, Harry had agreed but only if Dobby used Harry’s money to make the little space homey. “Get some rest, Dobby, you can to take these to Luna when you’ve recovered.”

The elf’s face scrunched up in an effort to protest, but Harry wanted to ward off the complaint.  “Dobby.” Harry said firmly though not kindly. “You are my employee and my friend- your health is important.  If you refuse to take care of yourself how can you take care of me?”

Dobby’s ears drooped, but Harry’s hand came down on his head, warm and reassuring. “I know you want to be helpful- and you are!- but you have to take care of yourself, too, alright?”

The elf sniffled and barreled into Harry’s legs, wrapping spindly arms around the boy and causing the boy to grunt in the effort to keep them upright.  “Dobby is most happys to bes bonded to Employer Harry Potter, sirs!”  The little elf cried out dramatically.  Harry let the overwrought little guy blubber into the fabric of his jeans, patting the elf’s back comfortingly.  Eventually Dobby’s tears dried out and he scurried off to his little nook to rest.

Harry smiled in fond exasperation as he moved to finish packing.  Well, and to write Luna a letter- he would be leaving in the morning, after all.

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Luna Lovegood opened her eyes and knew that today was going to be _beautiful_.

The Lovegood family had always been a little eccentric, and her mother had been a strange mix of eccentric and fierce. 

Xenophilius Lovegood had met his wife while he had been in Italy, searching the ruins of magical sites for new and interesting creatures to write about.  His newspaper was his hobby, but Xeno had always loved the fantastical and wanted to discover something new and exciting to share with the world.

However, even fearless adventurers needed to rest occasionally and the man had always loved classical music.

The way her Daddy told her, he had been instantly captivated by the woman who had stood in the shadows of the stage curtains.  The blonde woman was barely visible to the audience, but the focal point of the pianist who had been performing.

Pandora Lovegood had always laughed and said that she had been charmed by the man’s whimsical nature and sharp mind.

Luna had always thought that her Mamma simply loved the freedom her father seemed to exude.

The pianist- Pandora’s dearest friend, Lavina- had been a staple in Luna’s life until Pandora’s death nearly five years ago.  The woman had disappeared into the masses of Italy after the funeral, leaving the Lovegoods alone in their grief.  Well, Luna alone in her grief.   Xeno had been so incredibly broken by the death of his beloved wife that Luna could only watch in despair as her Daddy moved further and further away from her.

Luna’s mother had been a brilliant spell crafter, and she had been cautious- always cautious.  In the days just before the accident, something had been bothering her mother, but no matter what Luna did she could not erase the lingering worry from her mother’s eyes. 

The day of the accident had gone fairly normally, with Luna safely ensconced behind the special shield that her mother had devised for her so that Luna could be in the same room while she worked.  Luna had been drawing a particularly detailed picture of a Fae that her mother had told her stories about the night before when she had smelled burning meat.  In nearly the same instant the smell registered in Luna’s mind, there was a brilliant flash of light.  Just as Luna looked up- immediately frozen at the incomprehensible sight of her mother’s empty eyes and the terror etched on the woman’s face- an inferno of chaotic, multicolored wave of energy was barreling towards the wide-eyed, statue-still girl.

Only to hit the shield, which shattered after a moment, but then Luna was _burning_.

Luna remembered closing her eyes as she wished with all of her might that the pain would stop.  She had wished all the way down to her _soul_ that her Daddy would come and that Mamma would wake up- then the burning had stopped and then there had been darkness.

Afterwards, Luna had been entrapped in a world of peaceful tranquility.  She could feel other emotions, but they quickly eluded her grasp whenever she reached for them.  It had been frustrating at first, but slowly she forgot how it truly felt to be otherwise and eventually she accepted that she would forever simply drift along, like a tendril of rain at the mercy of the wind.  No matter how much she wanted to be angry or exuberant or something, she seemed unable to reach the surface of the calm lake that she rested beneath.  Forever seeing the world in reflections and ripples and fissures.

Then she had met Harry Potter and the green-eyed boy had not been content to simply let her drown.  Harry had done something to her and the more she saw him, the sharper her world became.  No longer was the rest of the world out of focus, distorted through miles of tranquility and her only company the flashes of creatures that only she had the spirit to see.

Luna had been sad to see the schoolyear end, despite her not really enjoying Hogwarts and missing the Rookery and her Daddy.  But Harry had kissed her forehead and told her to expect something from him and she had believed him, in his kindness.  In spite of all the cruelty that had been shown her by her peers throughout her life.

So, when a little over a week into the hols a fashionable little House Elf had knocked on the Lovegood front door and handed her a package with Harry’s handwriting on the envelope, Luna Lovegood _hoped_.

_“Luna-love,_

_I hope that you will not think me a pompous prat, but these were simply too lovely to not send to you._

_They’re special, you see._

_These trinkets hold the Sun and the Rain and I think that Mist will help you see the Sky._

_I did have sorella get a choker instead of a traditional necklace- I know you like you butterbeer cork one!  Maybe you could wear the new earrings in a new set of holes?  I don’t want to infringe on your sense of style, my dear!_

_I’ll see you this fall, lovely lady!_

_Harry Potter_ ”

Luna opened the box, revealing the lovely choker, earrings, ring, bracelet, and hairclip- all of which were adorned with amethyst.

“Mamma’s favorite stone.”  She murmured breathlessly as she hurried up to her room and sat at the boudoir that had been passed through her mother’s family for generations.

And as Luna Lovegood slipped on the Flame treated jewelry, piece by piece she began to come alive.  Seated before the elegantly crafted mirror, clad in various pieces of amethyst jewelry she began to feel _whole_ for the first time since the accident.

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	6. Chapter 6

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** Chapter Six **

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Squalo grumbled wearily and tried to stretch his sore muscles a little in an attempt to gain some relief for his miserably achy body as he made his way towards his damn  Boss’ office.

The past few weeks had been _hell_ \- and not the fun sort of chaotic hell that was normal, daily life in the Varia- but the exhausting covering-everyone’s-asses-while-Nono-conducts-this-stupid-ass-review kind of hell.

The Varia as a whole cheerfully cultivated an image of being unhinged, volatile trainwrecks.  While there was a certain amount of truth to their public personas, they were much, much more than self-destructive loose cannons that followed Xanxus because no one else wanted them.

The underlings of the Varia fell loosely into three major categories: those who truly wanted to become Varia Quality and served just under the elite; former targets who were useful enough to be kept alive to take on missions that Xanxus didn’t want to risk others on; and the truly twisted and unhinged who intimidated their former Famiglia- or the Famiglia responsible for their area of operation- so entirely that they were handed over to the Varia for safekeeping. 

This unstable hierarchy was what made the Varia Officers so incredibly important.

Each Officer was responsible for divisions which held a blend of all three types of underlings.  The policy of ‘the weak don’t deserve to live’ that the Varia was infamous for and the ruthlessness that the Officers displayed were used to keep the underlings in line, motivated, and disinclined to be disloyal- and this _bullshit_ inquiry wasn’t doing them any favors.

Squalo, as the Rain Officer, headed Rain Division which also housed Varia Intel.   Belphegor, as the Storm Officer, headed Storm Division which also housed Varia Research and Development.  Leviathan, as the Lightning Officer, headed Lightning Division which also housed Varia Tech.  Esper Mammon, as the Mist Officer, headed Mist Division which also housed Varia Accounting.  Lussuria, as the Sun Officer, headed Sun Division which also housed Varia Medical.  The Cloud Division was currently under the direct control of Xanxus- due to the Cloud Officer Ottabio being traitorous scum and therefore _dead_ \- but Cloud Division also hosted the Varia Archives.

Granted there was a lot of crossover and overlap- and personal preferences and skillsets were definitely taken into account- but at the end of the day the absolute authority each Officer held over their respective Divisions- and consequent sub departments- allowed them to keep order.  Order among assassins who took the most dangerous missions in the _world_ was a very, very good thing. 

Not only did the system allow the Officers to keep order among the masses, the overlap between departments helped in cross-examining information and prevented anyone’s skills from getting rusty.  Just last week one of Squalo’s Rains who had just finished a cycle in the Information Dissemination- where all the Varia’s current Intel was pooled, vetted, and then distributed-  helped one of Levi’s Lightnings root out a potential _major_ security breech.  The Rain had remembered reading Intel reports that mentioned several baffling tidbits of supposedly secure information during his rotation in Dissemination and was thusly able to pick up on a few clues that would have otherwise gone overlooked.

_‘Thankfully,’_ Squalo thought tiredly as he neared his damn shitty Boss’ door, choosing to ignore the quiet footsteps behind him when he recognized the pattern.  ‘ _Xanxus isn’t on ice right now.  It means he has to mostly stay here at HQ and beat the shit out of these stupid trashes who were fucking stupid enough to listen to Ottabio instead of being in the field where we need him, but at least that means that the rest of us can go take care of business without worrying about the idiots mutinying on us while we’re gone.’_

“Squalo!” A voice called to him from behind just as Squalo reached the door, and Squalo was already grinning before he turned his head.

“ ** _VOI!_**   Hey kitty, ‘bout time you got here!  My damn shitty Boss has been bitchy!”

Harry grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but they were cut off by Xanxus’ voice. “Get the fuck in here, shitty shark trash, shitty brat!  You can fucking gossip like schoolgirls later!”

Squalo and Harry exchanged a _look_ at Xanxus’ tone and then quickly slipped inside the office, neatly dodging the fragile projectiles that came hurtling towards them in greeting.

“Sit the fuck down, brat.” The Varia Boss ordered, not even looking up from the papers on his desk as Harry closed the door behind him and Squalo and the elder teen made his way to stand beside Xanxus while Harry took a seat in one of the two chairs the office had for visitors.  Xanxus’ voice was rougher than usual, and though his slouch was lazy in his ornate desk chair, Harry- and Squalo especially- could see the tension threaded through the man’s frame.

A few minutes passed in expectant silence before Xanxus leaned back in his chair and looked Harry straight in the eye.  “Look, shitty brat, this inquiry is fucking shit up.  When you and your Cloud trash were here last time we kept you on lockdown, so only the Officers and Lussuria’s top squad know about you two.”  Xanxus paused and massaged his forehead, briefly closing his eyes and grimacing before he abruptly heaved himself out of his chair and moved towards his ‘fuck this noise, I’m going to take a nap’ couch. “Shark, fucking explain the rest.”

Squalo sat down in the chair Xanxus had been sitting in, crossing his arms and leaning back comfortably as he promptly continued. “Kitty, you remember me telling you about Ottabio?”

Harry nodded, his eyes sharpening. “Yeah, the former Varia Second and Cloud Guardian to Tyr who sold you out to the Ninth and was a disloyal piece of _shit_ , right?”

Squalo seemed amused at the outraged expression on Harry’s face. “We were planning a coup, kitty.”

Harry’s expression was a just hair shy of mutinous as he clutched at the arms of the chair he was sitting in. “That _trash_ should have trusted that Boss had a plan instead of going behind his back to the Ninth!”

For some reason that simply seemed to amuse Squalo even more. “Yeah, well, we got rid of him by not going to save his ass when one of his non-authorized deals went bad- Varia Law, you see.  Unfortunately it has taken the better part of the year that Shitty Boss has been unthawed to let the trash hang himself and identify his minions among the lower ranks- which wouldn’t be an issue except we can’t just get rid of the disloyal trash right now because of CEDEF being a bunch of-“  Squalo abruptly descended into name calling, multi-lingual cursing, and generally casting aspirations against the CEDEF’s various member’s parentages.

Harry was visibly impressed and Xanxus’ snort of derision floated over from the direction of the couch.

Eventually Squalo pulled himself together, and continued.  “ ** _VOI!_**   Anyways, we managed to keep the information about you and your Cloud from Vongola and CEDEF- we didn’t have to inform them _who_ was taking the Trial, just that someone _was_ \- so we need you two to help us clean house.”

Harry grimaced, he still felt squeamish about taking lives, but he had also learned his lesson about trusting Xanxus’ judgment. “Blaise and I are unknowns, so that means you can hold a Ranking Event.”  He said aloud as he worked through the situation methodically based on what had learned from Xanxus, both about how things worked in the Varia and how to read situations in general.  “The CEDEF and Vongola won’t be able to connect the deaths during an Event to the Varia cleaning house.  People die all the time by being stupid during the Events and biting off more than they can chew. This means that the non-Varia meddlers won’t be able to claim foul play because Blaise and I aren’t on their radar.”

“Yeah, kitty, that’s about right.”  Squalo said tersely his mouth set in a grim line.  “We don’t like this- not any of us.  You and your Cloud haven’t grown up with this shit, you didn’t go to the Mafia school, and we certainly don’t want to push you both into the next level of warfare this early but we don’t have a choice at this point.”

 “We, more than any of the other fucking trashes out there, know the consequences of being unprepared for warfare, shitty brat.” Xanxus spoke up from the couch, wineglass in hand and arm thrown carelessly over his eyes but his voice was darkened with rage.  “It’s like the shark says, though- _we don’t have a choice_.  These scum are a clear and present fucking danger to the Famiglia as a whole, not just the Varia itself.” 

Xanxus paused to take a sip of wine before continuing.  “If it was just Varia that was being compromised we could contain the leaks and just wait out this fucking bullshit.  But by the time this fucking inquiry is over and done with and we can present our evidence to the shitty old man about the scum who are feeding these trashes their fucking information they will have already done too much fucking damage to the Famiglia.  It would weaken us for fucking _years_ , and we can’t afford that shit, especially not right now.  The old man’s _old_ , shitty brat, and all three of his sons are dead, we cannot afford to appear weak.”

Harry nodded humorlessly, eyes glinting with resolve even as his hands shook lightly as he clenched them in his lap. “We’ll do whatever it takes to keep the Family safe, Boss, Squalo.”  He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to push down the nausea of what he had just committed himself and Blaise to.  The knowledge that _he_ held the responsibility for putting his best friend’s life at risk settling around his shoulders like a lead weight even as he knew that Blaise would never forgive him if Harry left the other boy behind.

Focused on reconciling himself as he was, Harry missed the vicious, fierce pride that flashed through Xanxus’ eyes and the sharp approval that danced over Squalo’s expression.  By the time Harry had righted himself and looked up, both men were once again impassive, but both Xanxus and Squalo knew that they had just witnessed a significant, pivotal moment in Harry’s journey as a man and as a Sky.

_‘Varia fucking Quality in the making.’_   Xanxus thought as he watched his boy leave before turning to look at his Second with a razor sharp, bloodthirsty smirk. “Let’s put our house in fucking order, shark trash.”

Squalo’s answering vicious grin very nearly traumatized the messenger they called to assist in the Event arrangements.

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 “Alright, boy, Boss wants me to help train you, but I fight only for Boss’s approval, so don’t expect me to go _easy_ on you.” The dark-haired, tanned man with black tattoos on his face was intimidating enough to Harry, who stood at least a foot shorter than Leviathan, but the contemptuous sneer wasn’t helping Harry’s level of anxiety.

Then Levi _shifted_ and the man somehow had seven different weapons that he cycled through fluidly- _‘I thought he used those stupid umbrellas?  Who the hell fights with a spear anyways?!’_ \- and Harry no longer had time to think, worry, or breathe because the man was _relentless_.  The Varia Lightning was _terrifying,_ his reflexes a credit to his element, and his focus unerring as he bore down on Harry and forced the younger man to keep constantly moving around the training room. 

Levi ended up giving the teen more than a few injuries that were a little too close to fatal for Harry’s liking. 

After two harrowing days, though, Harry could grudgingly see the progress that his brutal trainer had inspired.  Harry could also appreciate the man’s style of fighting and the challenge Levi presented in battle made Harry’s blood sing with excitement.

Levi was, after all, a much different fighter than Squalo, Bel, or Xanxus.

 Xanxus was a deceptively lazy predator who took down his opponents with feral grace at the most opportune moment- by fist, X-Guns, or pure Wrath Flames if he was feeling particularly motivated.

Squalo was graceful- elegant almost- as he ruthlessly analyzed his opponent’s movements and seamlessly worked them into his own style of fighting.  Squalo thrived on the challenge that strong opponents offered him and reveled in the rush of pride he felt when they lay defeated beneath his blade.

Bel twisted, taunted, and tore until his opponent was a mangled heap at his feet.  If an opponent was unlucky enough to actually draw blood from the Bloody Prince then Bel was a force of nature, a Storm that left only devastation and destruction in his wake until he came up against someone who could disrupt him, calm him.  Usually Xanxus or one of the other Officers, called to subdue their errant member.

Levi, by contrast, contradicted his nearly six-foot-five stature by being wickedly fast and agile.  Levi would pick a weapon, strike hard and fast without warning and then pull back out of range just as fast.  The man could switch between weapons wickedly quickly, too, so making a counter attack was nearly impossible unless Harry could manage to intercept a blow- a not so inconsiderable feet when Harry ran the risk of Levi switching weapons at any given instant. Even when Harry managed to parry a blow causing damage to the man was nearly impossible as Levi could internalize the hardening aspect of his Lightning Flames given enough warning, meaning that Harry’s attack would fall flat and leave him off balance and vulnerable.

Lussuria had only fought Harry the one time, so Harry really couldn’t make a detailed observation of his fighting style, and just _thinking_ about fighting Esper was a migraine-inducing nightmare.

_‘Still,’_ Harry thought as he danced just out of range of one of Levi’s blows- a wicked looking mace this time- and sent a rush of Storm Flames towards where he thought the man would retreat towards. ‘ _I think he might despise me just a teeny bit less than he did at first.  I still can’t wait for Blaise to get here the day after tomorrow, though.’_

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Lussuria was out on a mission so Harry was seen to by one of the Suns- “ _Vivacità, dear, though Vivi is fine_.”-  who Lussuria had asked to treat Harry while the Sun Officer was away.

Granted, Harry was not stupid so he had double checked with Squalo first, but everything checked out.  Thankfully Vivi had been more amused and approving than annoyed by Harry’s mild paranoia, so he had not been subjected to any healer spite.

Harry stood in the bathroom, toweling off from his shower and checking the bandages on his few remaining injuries when he was struck with a thought.

_‘Sun is Activation, right?  I wonder if-‘_

“I need to talk to Sirius.” He said aloud, hurriedly tossing on some soft knit pants, a t-shirt, and socks as he padded quickly towards Squalo’s office.

“ ** _VOI_**!”  The man called when Harry knocked, which Harry took as an invitation to poke his head inside.

“Hey Squalo, is Sirius around somewhere?” Harry asked, taking in the office where he knew most of the Varia’s day-to-day paperwork was done in at the same time. 

Unlike Xanxus’ office, which was mostly done in dark tones and decorated with vintage aristocratic Italian furniture- Xanxus swore that older furniture was more comfortable to nap on, Harry just thought his mentor was a hedonist- Squalo’s office was mostly sea-themed, with shades of blues- mostly darker hues- as the prominent colors.  The walls held paintings of famous swordsmen in battle, and there was a large window that looked out towards the grounds, though Squalo’s office faced the front gate as most of the routine Varia business was conducted here.  Squalo’s desk was made of a red wood and looked sturdy.  In front of the desk were two cushy visitor’s chairs while comfortable-looking mirrored couches took up most of the space along the side walls.  The upholstery on the couches and chairs were so red they nearly seemed black, but they seemed quite inviting.

Harry honestly had no idea how a blue themed room managed to have red furniture and still look elegant, but he supposed that Lussuria had something to do with it.

Harry’s perusal of the room only took a few moments, so he caught the sharp glance that Squalo sent his way as the man replied. “Why, kitty?  You’ve never asked for him before.”

“Do you want me to come in and give you the long answer or do you want the short one?”  Harry asked, noticing that Squalo looked even more tired than he had when Harry had arrived two days ago.

“ _VOI **!**_   Long answer, kitty.  Come in, shut the door, and sit.”

Once he was seated on of the comfortable visitor’s chairs, Harry launched into his reasoning. “I can still pull out my Storm Flames and my Sun Flames even though I’ve reclaimed my Sky Flames, right?   Anyway, I was thinking about the Activation aspect of the Sun Flame and the way I prefer to fight.  I like my dagger, but I wish it was more flexible sometimes.  I also have to have a Rune and Arithmancy project to turn in for consideration for my OWLs in a year- the project is sort of like the ‘practical’ aspect of the exam.  So, I got to thinking- since I was watching Levi come at me with his multiple weapons again today- what if I had a weapon that could change length at will, be flexible, but also sharp as a blade?  Possibly even one that could transform based on my intent or something?”

Harry paused and gathered his thoughts, brow furrowing as his mind whirred furiously with all the possibilities. “What if I had a set of bracers that I could Activate.  You know those stories of people using silk scarves to stop swords- _shut up I know it’s girly_ \- what if I could, at will, Activate a them to link together and blend to use as a sort of shield or to wrap around something; or to split apart and extend and wrap around something only to sharpen at will and cut. 

“What if I could channel Storm Flames through them?  I could line them with Runes that work with my magic and possibly imbed Arithmancy into them and have them store defensive or offensive spells, or have more than one set of them stored in my bracers at once, but I would need to talk to Sirius because that sort of thing is beyond my level at the moment and I don’t have books that go that far.  I might have to change the entire idea, but I really want a more versatile weapon.”  Harry scratched the back of his neck sheepishly as his ramblings came to an end.  “It’s sort of just a random thought for right now, but I have magic and Flames.  Why should I be limited to a traditional weapon?”

Squalo was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking through the pros and cons of such a weapon.  Harry waited patiently and tried not to fidget.

“ ** _VOI!_**   It sounds really girly; kitty, but I can see how advantageous such a versatile weapon would be to a fighter like you.”  Squalo said after a few intense moments of thought.  “Hand to hand isn’t quite your style, but the dagger does seem to slow you down sometimes.  If you can make it work, you could potentially Activate them and catch a sword between the lengths of your activated bracers, twist it out of the way, separate them into twin dagger-length weapons, slash your opponent’s throat, and move on before you opponent truly realized what was happening.  The shock factor would be an incredible asset depending on how well you can craft such a weapon.  Hell, if you could make it work it could potentially revolutionize the Varia’s WEATHER Squadron.  Those guys struggle with trying to blend their talents, though that might be because most of them were much older and firmly entrenched into the ‘rules’ of magic before they went Active.”

“I know!  I’m not really explaining it very well, but you’ve gotten the general idea.”  Harry leaned forward eagerly, his eyes bright with excitement as he used his hands to demonstrate what he was visualizing.  “The main idea is to be able to use my Sun Flames to change the bracers from normal, to sort of connected but dual layered to capture something like a sword or use as a shield,  to flexible and sharp, and then to rigid and sharp.  I’d like to be able to use them to conduct my Flames as well as hold spells or at least the base forms for spells that just need to be activated.  The wand thing is okay for school, but not really a feasible instrument for me in battle and I want to be at my best when I’m battling for my life.”  Harry paused and thought for a moment.  “Does WEATHER Squadron- are they a squad or a squadron?- even use wands?  I don’t think I’ve seen them with one?”

“There are only six of them, but since they are sort of their own contained unit ‘squad’ and ‘squadron’ gets tossed about interchangeably.  It’s not really correct- a squad is a group of four-to-six operatives, occasionally eight.  ‘Squadron’ hearkens back to the days of cavalry- you know, idiots who fought on horses- and was sort of a subunit of a battalion or company.  Back in the day those guys were fairly badass, though, so the term sort of lends itself to the idea of a self-contained unit within a larger force.  As to wands, I know most of them _have_ one, but a lot of them learned how to do a few spells windlessly and mostly use magical artifacts for specific purposes.”  Squalo easily rattled off the explanation, though he was obviously deep in thought.  After a few moments of expectant quiet Squalo pushed back from the desk and slid to his feet. “ **VOOII!**  We need to tell the Boss, and see if he thinks it’s okay for you to see Black.  This idea is impressive, but it requires giving Black quite a bit of access to you, so our damn shitty Boss needs to approve.”

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Xanxus- after spending some time purposely needling Harry about how _girly_ the proposed cloth-based weapons seemed- allowed Harry permission to see Sirius unmonitored. 

Well, Harry and Sirius would be required to stay in Harry’s approved areas of Varia HQ-, so there would be no spontaneous outings.  

Xanxus had also demanded that he and Squalo received copies of the research from Harry and that Sirius would pass on the research to Esper Mammon.  A perfectly reasonable demand, really- it would keep Xanxus and Squalo in the loop while pacifying the tiny miser’s irritation at having to share his lucrative little information broker’s time.

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A few hours later saw Harry was sitting in his room enjoying the last rays of sunlight filtering through the window, and absently sketching designs while he waited for Sirius’s arrival. 

About every three minutes he would wonder if asking for Sirius was such a good idea. 

Oh, Harry didn’t really mind the man, and the idea of getting to know his _Godfather_ was rather nice, but what exactly was he supposed to talk about to the man?

Sirius had sprung to mind as Harry knew how much Sirius had helped the Varia understand magic and its abilities.  Well, considering Sirius’ situation he really had not had much of a choice in the matter, but the man had still expanded the Varia’s capabilities regarding magic by leaps and bounds.  So when Harry had thought of needing a magical source of information, his mind had nearly instantly connected the dots to Sirius.

Before Harry could whip himself into a frenzied state of panic- or spend too much time worrying about turning into someone who used people for his own gain- there was a loud knock on the door.

“Harry?” A smooth baritone voice called hesitantly from the other side of the thick door.

Harry was up and standing at the door before he fully realized it. “Password?”  He demanded, wary and excited all at the same time- remaining cautious because if he stuffed up the safety protocols Xanxus would murder him for _real_.

“Shitty brats and their girly fucking weapons.” The voice was distinctly amused and Harry kind of hated his mentor for a moment, even though he was expecting that answer.

Harry flung the door open, pulled the man inside, and then quickly slammed the door shut.  “I’m going to hide all of his alcohol.” He hissed irritably to his new companion.

Sirius Black, Harry noted as the man threw his head back and laughed, looked much, much better.  The man’s hair hung between his chin and his shoulder blades in loose curls, framing a lean- but no longer emaciated- aristocratic-looking face with sharp cheekbones, a sleek nose, and easy smile.  Sirius’ eyes were also much clearer, a tranquil grey as opposed to the furious storm grey they had been nearly a year ago.  The man was lean and tall, but was quite obviously far healthier and happier.

Harry smiled softly, even as his intuition once again purred in contentment at having this man near him- much like it did when Blaise was near, come to think of it.  “It’s good to see you again, Sirius.” He said warmly.

Sirius focused his still laughing eyes on Harry’s own and his body twitched like he wanted to wrap the teen up in a hug. “Ah.  It’s good to see you again, too, pup.”

Harry gestured Sirius over to the desk and they settled into chairs on either side, with the desk between them.  For about a minute a sort of awkward, expectant silence settled between the two.  Both were obviously excited but hesitant all the same.

‘ _Where do I start?_   _What do I do?_ ’  Harry thought panickedly as he mentally scrambled for something- anything- to break the ice.

Then Harry’s intuition spiked and before he knew it, words were tumbling out of his mouth.  “Thank you.  For the letter, I mean.  It meant a lot to me, even though we’re practically strangers.  I was-well, worried, I guess, even though I had already chosen my path, and it was nice to hear those things.” He finished somewhat shyly, a bit surprised at his own brashness and internally cringing a bit at the directness of the ‘practically strangers’ part.

‘ _The man escaped Azkaban and became an information broker for Esper to be near me and I had to bring up the ‘practically strangers’ part.  I’m such an idiot_!’  Harry ranted at himself as he wrestled with his intuition and its inability to shut the fuck up.  He could feel the little presence that he associated with Blaise- which had been mostly silent and steady, much like Blaise himself- sort of send out a pulse of reassurance and it did help calm him a bit.

Huh.  Apparently emotional distress could sort of be sensed through the bond even when they were continents apart.

Good to know

Sirius stared at Harry for a moment before smiling lopsidedly. “I’m glad.  I wasn’t really sure what to say, to be honest, I was still really muddled up from Azkaban, even then, but I wanted to reassure you that James would have understood, and Lily only ever wanted you to be happy.”  Sirius’s eyes darkened here. “You never should have gone there, Harry.  Not ever.  Lily loved her sister, but she knew better than _anyone_ how just jealous and vicious Petunia could be.  She _never_ would have let Petunia raise you if there was another option available- let alone without a hefty amount of oversight.”

“That’s another thing, I guess.”  Harry said thoughtfully, his brows drawing themselves down and slightly together and a flash of white appearing as he worried his lips in thought. _‘I had forgotten about those weird discrepancies from that first post-Xanxus trip to Gringotts.’_   Harry contemplated not saying anything about them for a long moment before he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.  _‘What if the details are more important than we thought they were?  Better to ask and find out nothing than to wait and overlook something important.  Xanxus would murder me.’_    “When I went to the Bank the summer between Second Year and Third Year I found out that my parent’s Will was sealed and only my Magical Guardian could open it, but the goblins said that they couldn’t tell me _who_ my Magical Guardian is due to- ah, crap, what was it?  Oh yeah! Inheritor’s-“

“-Succession.” Sirius breathed in wide-eyed disbelief, tilting forward a bit and adopting a somewhat mystified expression.

Harry gave the man a weird look for the somewhat awed tone but nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, that’s right.  I’m the Potter Heir and I can take up the Heir’s Ring after I achieve three of my OWLs and gain access to the Potter Family Vault, and there was a sealed secondary Heir ship that was-“

“- _Interrupta Continuatio_.” Sirius interrupted attentively, his eyes calculating and bewildered.  After another beat of silence Sirius abruptly slid his chair back and stood, making his chair scrape against the carpet in his unexpected haste.  “We need to go talk to your Boss, pup, this is a big deal.”

A bit bemused, Harry stood and let him and Sirius out of the room, locking it behind them as they made their way towards Xanxus’ office.  _‘I really hope that Xanxus doesn’t just decide to murder me for bothering him so much today.’_   Harry thought with no little amount of trepidation.  Just as they reached the hall that held Xanxus’ office, Harry remembered something.  “Professor Lupin- you did hear about my end of year adventure, right?  Well, Professor somehow got blamed for the missing Dementors and so felt guilty and went to talk to him and found out he had been friends with both dad and mum- said that my Magical Guardian was the one to place me at the Dursley’s house, though.”

“It’s impossible for it to have been your Magical Guardian that left you there.”  Sirius countered nearly instantly, the amusement that had sparked to life on his face when Harry had mentioned his ‘end of year adventure’ draining away abruptly, leaving a stern expression in its wake.  “I’ll explain when we get to the office.  Hey- did you know that Moony- Lupin- was one of our friends at school?”  Sirius asked as they made the last turn towards their destination, his countenance brightening considerably.  “He’s the reason we became _Animagi_ \- because a werewolf’s bit cannot infect an animal.  We called ourselves ‘The Marauders.’”

“I’m an idiot.” Harry declared somewhat dumbly, ignoring Sirius’ startled bark of laughter as the man slowed to a stop beside the suddenly immobile teen.  “The twins found a map called the ‘Marauder’s Map’ and Snape seemed to hate Lupin about as much as he hates me- well, my dad at least.  Harry blithely ignored the low growl Sirius let out at Snape’s name and shook his head briskly before he strode forward towards the office door.  “You mentioned that you guys became _Animagi_ for your _werewolf friend_ back when you explained everything to me last summer.  I’m a bloody _idiot_.”

“Well, I’m surprised that you managed to understand anything that I rambled about last summer, so you’re not that much of one from where I’m standing. “  Sirius said brightly as he danced forward and spun on his hells, offering Harry an up-close-and-personal look at the cheeky grin Sirius was sporting.   “A little bit, though.”  Sirius pronounced with another bark of amusement as he spun back around to walk beside Harry once more.

“ _Prat._ ”  Harry groused with a badly-suppressed grin as he gave his godfather a friendly punch to the arm.

Then they were knocking on Xanxus’ office door.

“For the love of all things shiny _what the fuck to you want now_ , shitty brat?”   Xanxus growled irritably.

Harry figured that was as close to a ‘come in’ he was going to get, so he opened the door and slipped inside ahead of Sirius.  Both of them managed to doge the fragile projectiles that were hurled at them in lieu of a warmer greeting, so Harry quickly shut the door and went to stand beside Sirius in front of Xanxus’ desk.

“Sirius and I were talking and apparently some of the stuff I found out at Gringotts that first trip after you showed up is really important.” Harry informed his exceedingly peeved looking mentor hurriedly- mentally sending up a round of thanks to the heavens, Merlin, magic, and all the Vongola bosses past that Squalo was in the room as well.

“Well.” Xanxus growled expectantly at the eldest man in the room as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, affording his guests his full, undivided attention.

“Harry told me that his Magical Guardian’s identity was kept from him based on Inheritor’s Succession and that his secondary Heir ship was _Interrupta Continuatio_.”  Sirius informed the man briskly, shifting a bit as he, too, crossed his arms and met Xanxus’ glare head-on.  “This is important- first of all- because it most likely means that magic did not remove me as his Godparent and rightful Magical Guardian.  This means I am likely the appointed Potter Steward- I’ll get to the _how_ in a bit.   The secondary Heirship is most likely to the Blacks- the ‘Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’ as dear old mum would say- and is most likely through me.  My grandfather- Lord Black- passed on the summer before I broke out.  I knew about that in Azkaban because the guards were talking about how they expected Lucius Malfoy’s brat to take the Black Lordship a lot that summer as my cousin is his wife.”  Sirius shook his head not unlike a dog and veered back to the topic at hand.  “As of right now the Black Family Magic is at a standstill- putting the entire Black Estate in stasis until I claim the Lordship or someone eligible does the Ritual and takes it from me.”

“Sit the fuck down and fucking explain from the beginning.”  Xanxus ordered irritably as he relaxed further into his chair and waved a dismissive hand towards Sirius and Harry, indicating for them to sit as well.

From his place at one of the side couches- he had the coffee table covered in documents, though- Squalo leaned forward interestedly, resting his elbows on his knees as he prepared to take in new and exciting information.  It was an ill-kept Varia secret that Squalo was a bit- well a lot more than a bit, honestly- of an information hoarder.  Squalo especially loved learning about history and cultures that produced famous swordsmen, but he was always eager to learn more about the world around him.

“The Blacks and the Potters are part of the ‘Old Blood’ system.”  Sirius began to explain once he and Harry were seated in the two visitor’s chairs they had brought over from their customary place by the wall and positioned in front of Xanxus desk.  “We have Family Magic, along with twelve other lines, which was birthed during the era of Avalon.  This is what makes us ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble’ Houses.”  Sirius sighed softly and propped his temple against his raised fist while he dutifully continued.  “Houses that were ennobled after the initial twelve are either ‘Ancient’ or ‘Noble’, but many of them are still pretty closely tied to the ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble House’ who initially sponsored their promotion to aristocracy.”

“VOI!”  Squalo interrupted, his intelligent eyes gleaming with interest.  “So these shitty ‘Most’ Houses are akin to the Vongola Famiglia.  The Vongola is large and powerful in its own right.  However, many mid-sized to small Famiglia give up a portion of their independence and goods- weapons, tech, people, etc- in order to operate freely in Vongola territory.  That network and the longevity of the Vongola is part of what makes the family’s reputation so intimidating.”

“Those families are referred to as ‘Auxiliary Famiglia’.”  Xanxus generously added for Sirius and Harry’s benefit.  “So as to not be confused with ‘Allied Famiglia’.”

“The Varia and the CEDEF are semi-autonomous branches of the Vongola, so we don’t fall under either category.”  Squalo put in once it was obvious Xanxus was not going to continue and Sirius and Harry were still a bit puzzled.  “An example of an aux-am- that’s the shorthand for Auxiliary Famiglia- would be the Bovino.  An example of an ally would be the Cavallone.”

“Those are the ones that asked your old man to send Reborn the Sun Arcobaleno to train up their heir, right?”  Harry asked as he tried to reconcile all the information.  “The Cavallone are sort of like a smaller version of the Vongola, right?”

“Essentially.”  Squalo said with a wry grin.  “Dino was a spineless walking disaster when I knew him at the shitty Academy, but he’s the last heir the Cavallone have left.  He’s got a long way to go but he seems to at least have his head on straight nowadays, if the recent activities of Cavallone’s people are due to him and not the Arcobaleno.”  Squalo shrugged and rose from the couch, stretching like a cat for a moment before he grabbed a chair and dragged over towards the others, making a sort of lopsided half-circle.

“Sounds like a fairly comparable sort of system.”  Sirius took up once Squalo was once again seated.  “‘Ancient’ Houses are Houses that achieved their status through longevity and monetary prosperity; meanwhile ‘Noble’ Houses are Houses that achieved their status through battle prowess or acts of extreme loyalty.  The council that oversaw ennobling the Houses disbanded after the Statute- the thing broke up the Greater House system because many of the people were expelled from the magical world and their minds were wiped clean- and no House has been ennobled by right and magic since, though some claim to have been.”

“What the fuck do you mean- by ‘right and magic’?”  Xanxus interrupted brusquely.

“I think, well-damn.“  Sirius paused as he tried to think of a proper correlation.

“Maybe like the Boss rings?”  Harry ventured after a long moment, having noted his mentor’s rapidly dwindling patience.

“Maybe.”  Sirius mused as he settled a bit more comfortably and thought on it a bit more.  “I mean, the ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble’ Houses have Family Magics that have their roots in Avalon.  Over the generations the magics have metamorphosed and I doubt they could ever be replicated- the knowledge and raw magic necessary have long since been lost.  Not to mention the time periods that the wielders lived in and how those conditions and experiences shaped the magic through them.”

“I will say that the rings in the Vongola’s possession have a great deal to do with the line of succession and Vongola’s enduring supremacy, even through tough times.”  Xanxus gave each of them an impossibly heavy, murderous stare.  “If I even suspect any of you _trash_ so much as _thought_ about this information too loudly once you’ve left this room I will eliminate you myself, is that clear?”  By the end Xanxus had allowed a great deal of pressure from his Flames to fill the room and none of the occupants doubted Xanxus’ seriousness.

“Understood, sir.” 

Xanxus kept the pressure up for a moment longer before he released it and allowed the previous ambience to return.  “Continue.”  Xanxus drawled expectantly to Sirius.

“Yeah, that’s pretty comparable, I think.”  Sirius said after he managed to compose himself.  The brat might still be a teen, but _Merlin’s hair bollocks-_ the Varia Boss had a far more commanding presence that even _Dumbledore_ had had during skirmishes back in the Blood War.  “Each ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble’ house has specific traits that are passed down through the blood of our Houses- even those who cannot use magic at all.  House Potter has always been known for innovation and creativity, while the House Black has long been known for our adaptability and resilience.  There are many more intricate traits entwined with the magics as well but I am quite literally incapable of speaking of them- there is also the possibility that the information has been hidden from me as well, as the Family Magics are quite proactive in protecting their secrets.”

“The brat said that he was told that there were a few ruined properties, debts to be collected, a national fucking monument that he wasn’t compensated for, and not much else except for trash profiting from his House’s fucking tragedy- where is the Family Magic there?”  Xanxus asked, more than a little suspicious. 

Beside Xanxus, Squalo made a small noise of interest.  The Rain watched Sirius diligently as he answered Xanxus’ challenging query.

Sirius had gone stiff at the accusation.  Sirius grit his teeth and reminded himself to stay calm but it was difficult as it made him _unbearably livid_ to think that people were profiting from James and Lily’s deaths.  He drew in a few deep, calming breaths before he trusted himself enough to answer.  “The Family Magics cannot properly defend House Potter right now because the Will of the previous Lord has been sealed; meaning that the Family Magic cannot carry out the Lord’s wishes.  Since Harry is not yet eligible to take up the mantle of the Heir the Family Magic is bound by the last instructions of the Lord Potter before James.   A failsafe, if you will, to keep opportunists from usurping the position of ‘Lord’ and using the Family Magics from falling into the wrong hands.”

“Firstly- what do you mean by ‘wrong’ and secondly is there a Trial?”  Squalo asked intently.

“To answer the first part- the Family Magics are sort of sentient but they greatly prefer those who have the- if you’ll excuse the term- ‘purest’ blood.”  Sirius ran a stressed hand through his hair.  “Think of it like this: the Family Magics live in the blood of the House, until the blood gets so diluted that the magics lose their hold.  So the Family Magics know if there is another line with a stronger claim to the Lordship and can block a lesser line from taking the mantle.  Because our magic is in our blood, the Family Magics favor descendants who are more closely related to the original main line of the House.”  Sirius could nearly taste the bitter tension the conversation was engendering and hurried to complete his explanation.  “There have been several cases throughout the generations when a House was run by Stewards for several generations until the Family Magics claimed a new Lord.”

“Oh?”  Xanxus’ voice was deep, dark, and deadly.

“Yes.”  Sirius affirmed somewhat nervously.  “In almost all the cases it was found- after the fact- that the newly appointed Lord- or Lady- were in fact from forgotten cadet branches or the result of, er-“

“Bastards.”  Xanxus supplied flatly.

“Correct.”  Sirius answered meekly.  “Though, to be fair, a lot of the time the children were orphans and someone had been trying to kill off everyone in a particular branch in order to usurp the headship of a House.  So most of the so-called _bastard_ children were in fact orphans whose parents had been offed before arrangements could be made.”

Xanxus grunted irritably but relaxed, which was highly appreciated by the rest of the room’s occupants.

“Blood Adoptions are not unheard of, but generally only work for headship positions in situations like mine.”  Sirius explained patiently.  “I have the blood but since I rejected the position of Heir after being accepted by the Family Magics as such, then it makes things………complicated.”  Sirius tossed a grin at his avidly listening Godson.  “You have Black blood, kiddo.”  Sirius paused and looked at Xanxus.  “Do you want the genealogy lesson?”

Xanxus sighed and rubbed at his temples.  “Shitty fucking brat.”  He snapped tetchily at the bemused Harry before he glanced at Squalo.  “Shark trash, get me some fucking wine and then take fucking notes.”

After some obligatory complaints-“damn Boss and his damn lazin- _VOI!_   Stop throwing shit at me you damn shitty Boss!”- from Squalo the man had a notebook in front of him and Xanxus had a glass of wine.  Squalo had even been kind enough to order up a pitcher of water for Harry and Sirius.  Squalo himself settled down with a nice sports drink- a guilty pleasure that Xanxus laughed at him for at every given opportunity.

“Anyways.”  Sirius continued once they were all settled.  “James was born to his parents- Fleamont and Euphemia Potter late in their lives.  Charlus Potter- Lord Potter- was actually Fleamont’s nephew.  Charlus was more than happy to leave the politicking to Fleamont, just as Charlus’ father- the previous Lord Potter- had also done.  Fleamont was a Potioneer by trade and developed _Sleekeazy’s Hair Remedy,_ among several other things during his tenure as a public Potion’s Master.”  Sirius grinned at the astounded Harry.  “Between you and me I think that was another reason why James hated Snape so much- James was pretty pants at Potions.”

Harry just sort of goggled at Sirius, which caused the man to laugh loudly.

“Anyways, everyone knows that Charlus Potter was married to Dorea Potter neè Black, my great-aunt.”  Sirius explained, a small nostalgic smile curling at his lips.  “I think the women of that generation got all the smarts, Aunt Dorry and Aunt Cassie were amazing  Grandfather Pollux and his children on the other hand…..”  Sirius shuddered in disgust as his voice trailed off.

“That wonderful, huh?”  Harry asked amusedly.  “And you realize you just insulted yourself, right?”

“You have no idea.”  Sirius groaned after taking a quick, bolstering shot from his drink before continuing.  “And I like to think I take after my father’s side of the family- both of my parents were Blacks by birth-“

Harry’s utterly disgusted expression startled another laugh out of Sirius but he quickly continued.

“-anyways, my father’s side is actually important to both of us.”  Sirius thought for a moment, his lips moving as if he was doing some quick calculations before he continued.  “Now Fleamont- that was his mother’s maiden name, in case you were wondering, it was her dying wish that the name not disappear- Potter married Euphemia.  Now my father was Orion Black, the son of Lord Arcturus Black.  Technically the eldest of Arcturus’ children was Lucrecia Black, but when she married Ignatius Prewett- who became Lord Prewett- she gave up her claim of the Black Heirship to her brother- my father, Orion.  More because she had little to no desire to be tied down with the Lordship duties than anything else.  She quite enjoyed travelling and adventures, that one.  With me so far?”

“Yeah.”  Harry replied, scrunching up his nose as he thought about things.  “But it makes me wonder how closely the twins are related to me.”

“Later, brat.”  Xanxus rumbled from behind his glass of wine. 

“Right.”  Harry agreed easily, the tips of his ears turning red as he accepted the gentle reprimand.

“So, anyway.”  Sirius put forth cheerfully as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together a few times before he cracked his knuckles and was rewarded with several distinct _pops_.  “Fleamont’s wife- Euphemia.  She was the daughter of a Black like myself- one who thumbed their nose at the idea of ‘magic is might’ and having magic meant that we were meant to rule the world- named Phineas Black the II, the son of that _arsehole_ Phineas Nigellas Black.  Phineas the II was kicked out of House Black by his asshole father but that did not make him any less a Pureblood.  Phineas the II married Agnes Fawley.  Since he had cut ties with the Blacks he allowed his daughter to be named after Fawley tradition- amusingly enough, the Fawley family were devout Roman Catholics and named all their children after saints, hence the name Euphemia.”

“So the kitty has a legitimate claim to this secondary Heirship through his great-grandfather?”  Squalo asked shrewdly, glancing up from his scribble filled sheet of paper.  “Wouldn’t there be others with a stronger claim?”

“You would think.”  Sirius repeated dryly.  “But with myself and Regulus- my little brother, he joined the death Eaters like our dear old mum wanted and died at barely nineteen because of it- out of the running, the only living contender for the Heirship is my cousin’s son.  All the other Blacks are dead, were kicked out or have been judged by the Family Magics and passed over.”

“How do these shitty Family Magics judge people?”  Xanxus demanded somewhat impatiently.

“That involves addressing the second part of Superbi’s question.”  Sirius said with a wry grin.  “It’s pretty simple in theory.  For the Heirship you put the ring on and spill your blood in the Family Inheritance Basin.”  Sirius blinked owlishly at the blank looks before he sighed and explained.  “All the ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble’ families have kept their basins with specific Goblin Lines since before the Rebellions. Inheritance rituals have always been neutral events, even when we were at war with each other.  Anyway the Basins are made of Old Magicks and linked to the Family Magics in ways we modern magicals cannot comprehend. 

“Two things can happen during an Heirship testing- you pass and become the Lord of the House or you are rejected as Lord but assigned a specific position such as ‘Advisor’- which is how they used to clear up inheritance issues back in the old days.  Phineas Nigellas, for example, had four children besides Phineas the II and when it came time to choose an Heir, the Family Magics chose Sirius over the other three kids, despite Phineas Nigellas favoring his youngest son Arcturus for the position.”  Sirius paused took another bracing shot of his drink before venturing.  “I’m fairly certain that was why grandfather was even named Arcturus, actually.  Phineas Nigellas’ Arcturus married Lysandra Yaxley and now that I think about it Aunt Lycoris might have been named after her….”

“Trash.”  Xanxus growled warningly.

“Right!”  Sirius chirped, veering back onto topic.  “Lordship testing has a pleasant third option- dying in agony.  That usually only happens when someone was assigned a place in an Heirship testing and they try to force things.  Doesn’t really work out well but there are always those who want to try.”  Both Xanxus and Squalo snorted derisively, which made Sirius and Harry both grin.  “Newer families- like the ‘Ancient’ Houses- do not have these tools and their Lordships are passed down through heavily enchanted rings.  The rings are still quite complicated and picky, but they do not have the breadth or depth the testing capabilities that the Family Magics of the Old Blood lines do.”

“Requirements for a shitty Heirship testing?”  Squalo asked, flipping his page over and beginning to scribble impossibly small, nearly indecipherable notes on the opposite side.

“Harry will be eligible to take up the Heir’s Ring when he achieves at least three OWLs.  The Inheritance Rules were changed from successfully defending against the Lord’s chosen challenger of the Heir around the same time the Statute went into effect and the OWLs were established.” Sirius explained patiently, flicking a glance at Harry to make sure that his Godson was following alright.

Xanxus’ eyes narrowed in contemplation as the Varia Boss leaned back and ordered his thoughts, while Squalo asked Sirius. “Alright, trash. What would the Varia stand to gain if you were declared the Lord of House Black?  Can you do that as a fugitive?”

“As you are both aware, my loyalty is first and foremost to my Godson.” Sirius stated firmly as Squalo nodded and Xanxus grunted.  Black had been quite clear about that since day one. ”That being said, Harry has chosen his path and I will follow him and assist in any way I can.  If I can get to Gringotts in Diagon Alley- as that is where the House Black Ritual Basic is held, by members of the Distinguished Claw Clan- and go through the Heirship testing there’s a good chance I will be named Regent Lord of House Black. 

“Once the House Black Family Magics accept me I will have proved that I have not committed a grievous offense against magic, which is all that matters to Gringotts.  Therefore, as an adopted member of House Potter I can go through the Potter Heirship testing and- if all goes correctly- be named the Potter Steward.  As Steward I can begin the process of unsealing James’ Last Will and testament which will start the process of lugging the Potter Estate out of suspension.  It’s not an immediate process, especially not when the Family Magics have been dormant for this long.  I know that Potter Manor stands but she has so many protections that it would be impossible to find without the Heir’s Ring, Lord’s Ring, or Reagent’s Ring.”

“Why didn’t my parents just hide there, then?” Harry asked, confused by the thought of his parent’s not using some Hogwarts level estate as their hiding place.

“House Potter had more than seventeen members in 1960, Harry.”  Sirius turned and looked at his Godson, trying to phrase what he wanted to say as gently as possible. “By the time Charlus died- which was not long after you were born- House Potter held all of two members who possessed the house Potter Family Magics.  There only being two of you is why your parents had to leave the main estate.  The Family Magic had not yet settled from the Lord’s death, even though James had been accepted as Lord Potter.  The Family Magics were- well, recalibrating you could say- so the main estate was still in Lockdown.”

“Huh?”  Harry said, so confused he looked sort of dumbfounded.

“House Potter was destroyed quite brutally and efficiently, Harry.” Sirius informed his confused Godson bluntly. “With just James and you left as members with the Potter Family Magics by birth there was not enough Family Magics to feed the estate Wards.   Whenever a change in Lordship happens to an Old Blood family there must be enough Family Magic within the boundaries of the Wards for them to- well, power up, change the guard- whatever you wish to call it.  Appointing a new Lord sort of creates a wound- you know how people prune plants or trees so they will grow better?- and in order to heal that wound.   And well, with the prophecy-“

“ _What?_ ” Harry exclaimed with no little amount of exasperation.

“I need another fucking drink.  Whiskey this time.” Xanxus snarled just before he abruptly stalked over to the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. 

“Look, basically once the Lord of the House dies the Family Magic needs time to repair itself.”  Sirius explained, trying to wrest Harry attention away from glowering darkly at his unsatisfying glass of water.  “The reason why stretches back to the days of Houses being at war from the inside.”

“Which is why they have that shitty Heirship testing shit.”  Xanxus growled around the rim of his glass tumbler.  “Continue.”

“Well, usually the family gathers at the main estate for a while and the Wards feed off the resonating Family Magic within their blood.”  Sirius gestured with his glass, struggling to find words to explain something that was as simple to him as _breathing_.  “It’s much like how the ones at Hogwarts are charged by the students casting magic inside them.  Old Blood are charged much the same way.  The ‘only being two’ issue is a problem because the Wards they were first laid down back when families were sometimes forced to remain on the estate for _years_ because going outside the Wards was essentially suicide.  The magic levels needed to keep an Old Blood estate out of Lockdown were planned accordingly.  These Wards are intricate and interwoven, not easily altered- the last major alteration was during the advent of the Floo almost two centuries ago.”

“So, basically, after the fucking Lord changes- or dies- there’s a toll and if you can’t fucking pay it you’re shut out until time pays it for you.” Xanxus summarized over the rim of his third glass of whiskey.

“Basically, yes.” Sirius agreed, relieved he had managed to get the point across effectively.  “It’s really inconvenient, but that’s the way the protocols were written for the Wards back then.  At this point so many generations have reinforced the magic that upholds the protocols it would take an army to change them, even with the Lord doing the changing.  It’s why there are so few true Old Blood estates left, most of the knowledge used to create the Wards are only ever passed to the Lord, so any Ward collapses that happen when trying to tweak them just mean that the family has to start all over.”  Sirius grinned slyly and looked over at the quiet Harry.  “Ol Lucy tried to tweak the wards to Malfoy Manor during the War right after his father died and the collapse of the Old Magic nearly flattened the whole estate.  According to what I heard afterwards it took quite the amount of effort to keep the backlash from leveling the Manor itself.  They managed to salvage some of the remnants of the old wards and put in new ones that were the best that money could buy, but before that no one had stepped foot on Malfoy ground uninvited since back in the fifteen hundreds.”

Harry burst out laughing at the thought of a baby Draco Malfoy with cartoon-like electrical-socket hair. 

“ ** _VOI!_**   You need to know how something like that is constructed before you go poking around with it.  It’d be like trying to fuck around with the Famiglia rings.”  Squalo muttered around his own grin.

“What’s this shit about a fucking prophecy?” Xanxus growled darkly, steering the conversation back towards the topic hand for the nth time.  He had shit to do, dammit!

“I don’t know what it said, just that Volde-trash knew about it and it’s why the bastard came after James and Lily.”  Sirius answered with a grimace.  “All I know is that someone from the other side overheard it and that’s why Volde-trash knew about it.  During the War Dumbledore conducted teacher interviews in Hogsmeade so he could keep the wards of Hogwarts locked down tighter during the summers.”

“I’m taking Divination, and it has some practical uses- like Scrying- but a prophecy?”  Harry shifted around restlessly and internally grumbled about being hungry, a thought that he chided himself for nearly immediately afterwards because he had had a pretty hefty dinner.  “ _Really_?”

“Desperate people will believe in the most fucked up shit if they think it will give them a way out, shitty brat.”  Xanxus told Harry evenly as the man calmly sipped at yet another glass of alcohol.  “Just think about all the trash who believed all that shit about you during your Second Year.” 

“From what we’ve pieced together Volde-trash was winning before that night, kitty.”  Squalo interjected reasonably.  “It wasn’t like the so called ‘good guys’ were doing all that great.”

“As much as I would like to protest-” Sirius added helpfully. “-Superbi over there is right.  Despite our best efforts Volde-trash was dangerously close to total victory, it was really only a matter of time.”

“Alright, out, both of you.” Xanxus ordered suddenly, setting his glass aside and picking up his previously discarded pen. “Go get the shitty brat some more food- _shut up you need to eat when you’re hungry, especially during puberty or do you want to be short and scrawny forever you fucking shrimpy idiot?_ \- and we’ll let you know what our next move is tomorrow.  The brat still has until the day tomorrow after before his shitty Cloud arrives and we still have about a week until the Event, so we’ll take action tomorrow.  Now get the fuck out.  I’m tired of looking at you trash.”

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“So-” Harry began once they were safely back inside his room with plenty of food and drinks. “-this Family Magic stuff seems weird and kind of badass so why haven’t I ever heard about it until now?  I mean, Blaise has told me a lot of stuff but I’ve never heard anything about this sort of thing.”

“Well, that is a loaded question.”  Sirius replied once he swallowed his mouthful of lasagna and grabbed a quick drink. “So get comfortable because you’re in for a history lesson.”

Harry didn’t whimper pitifully at the idea of more fucking information.

_Really_.

No matter how deviously gleeful Sirius seemed.

――――――

_Far back in the muddled history of the world, not long after the change that would be known as Anno Domini or AD, there was born a boy who would one day be known far and wide as Merlin._

_Merlin would be remembered for his assistance to the Pendragon Line, his legend so imbedded into the fabric of European history that not even the Statute of Secrecy could eradicate his legacy._

_There was a Merlin who attended Hogwarts after her founding but he was named for the man whom was originally named Myrridin, whose story I now pass to you, Harry._

_Among the magical populations, Myrridin was their salvation._

_Myrridin was born amongst a poor tribe in the moors, ridiculed and scorned for his stature, battle prowess, and absentmindedness, but he persevered- listening to the whispers that sang through his blood of power, light, and laughter.  Eventually he learned to wield this power through a staff and so the legend of Myrridin began._

_In the times of tribes, invaders, suspicion, and overwhelming superstition Myrridin sought the scattered peoples who were blessed with the gift of magic and taught them.  He traveled, seeing the need of those like him to have a safe haven, and eventually founded the Empire of Avalon.  Myrridin proceeded to invite all those whom he had nurtured and the modern age of magicals was born. It was a paradise, one in which children, women, and men could walk among the streets of Avalon and be proud of their gifts; a far cry from terrified families huddled in small clusters, fearing the day their neighbors discovered them practicing with the power that swirled joyfully within their blood and begged to be used._

_Techniques, histories, and knowledge were shared in a way that had not occurred since the loss of Atlantis, and over the centuries the modern magical disciplines were born.  Throughout the years some of the people left to found their own safe havens, some left to journey out and preserve swathes of land abundant with magical creatures and fauna, while still others left to conceal their dark lust for more power._

_Throughout his incredibly long life Myrridin encouraged, inspired, and led his people to the best of his abilities.  As he had no wish to be King, Myrridin founded the Council of Friends- fourteen men and women who he called his dearest, most cherished friends.  They were his council, his advisors and administrators, and they were the ones who took up the mantle of ‘Most Ancient and Most Noble’ Houses when all was said and done._

_When the time came to assist the young Arthur Pendragon the Council of Friends did their utmost to assist the young man who would lead the charge against the Saxons, but they would find that assisting the young to-be King would spell the end of Avalon._

_Morgana Pendragon, later known as Morgana le Fey, was a beautiful, brilliant woman whose life wove a tragic tale.  Born as a bastard daughter in a time which held no kindness for such innocent sufferers she was mistreated, persecuted, and scorned- so truly it was no surprise that when she discovered her gift of magic that she chose the path of destruction._

_This path led her and her followers of fellow magicals and their countless nonmagical slaves directly towards Avalon, which Merlin and the Council would not allow to fall._

_Ultimately Morgana was struck down by Myrridin himself, and her servants were defeated by the denizens of Avalon- but her tragic ending never settled well with Myrridin.  Eventually, after much protest from his Council, he chose to forfeit his life with a ritual that established the Family Magics as atonement for not being able to stop the tragedy of Morgana’s fall from occurring.  The Family Magics, the House attributes, the vitality and survival of the lines, the Inheritance Basins- all of those things were born of Myrridin’s Atonement._

_Less than a century later Avalon fell and the people scattered, but Magic remembered the sacrifice of her cherished son and the Family Magics continued to breed true.  Councils were formed with members of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Houses at their helm and other families were ennobled by the rites passed down from Avalon until the populations dwindled to almost nothing and the knowledge of how to do so was lost to the ages._

――――――

 “…or at least that is story that has been passed down through the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.” Sirius finished much later in the evening.

Well, nearly early morning by that point.

Harry was wide-eyed and a little overwhelmed but he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You _have_ to tell that story to Blaise; he’s a history fiend!”

Sirius threw his head back and laughed. “I’ll do that!  But anyways, true or not, that’s the story I was told growing up about the founding of the Family Magics.  It was always explained to me that the reason for the Lockdown function is because Myrridin’s Atonement and the Family Magic being so intertwined with the basis of the Wards on the Old Blood estates.  Something about when the Family Magics are healing and they are not able to be healed by the family giving back to the Wards, Lockdown is to help preserve the blessings passed down through the Atonement.  So, the Family Magics themselves.  Somehow.”

“In our case it kind of backfired though.” Harry pointed out dryly. “I mean the Potter line almost completely died out.”  The grief that rushed through him whenever he thought about being an orphan never really faded.  However time and his bonds with Xanxus and Blaise- and even Sirius- allowed him to talk about his parents with feeling overwhelmingly bitter at them for dying and leaving him alone or and prevented the heartache at _what could have been_ to overwhelm him.

“I wonder about that.”  Sirius mused idly.  “I almost wonder if the Potter Family Magics helped Lily create the disturbance that allowed you to awaken your Flames or even if they somehow helped your Flames protect you.  As idiotic as most magicals tend to be about daily life magic Herself is complicated and multifaceted, so I’m not particularly sure what to think.”  Sirius grinned ruefully at his Godson.  “Conquer the world while you’re still young, kiddo.  The older you get, the less you know.”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the words got caught in his throat, so eventually he just closed his mouth and sat back in his chair to ruminate over Sirius’ reply.

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Harry, Sirius, Esper, and Squalo stared doubtfully at the looming structure that was the entrance to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place- Sirius’ childhood home.

“Cheerful as ever, I see.” Sirius muttered sarcastically, reaching out with the hand that held his recently-acquired House Black Regent ring against the grotesque looking gothic knocker on the front door.

The trip to the Bank had gone about as expected. 

Sirius had found that his grandfather had named Sirius as his Heir due to Regulus’ death back during the war.  Because of the kerfuffle that was his rejection of his original position as Heir Black the summer after Fifth Year, Sirius had been unsurprised to acquire the Regent ring for House Black.  Shortly after that he had successfully claimed the Steward Potter ring.  As Steward Potter, Sirius had been able to begin the unsealing process for the Will, but it would take until Christmas just to get it out of probate- at which point Sirius would be able to start calling in debts and checking on the status of the main Potter estate.

They would have to wait until Harry took up the mantle of Heir Potter to have it read, unfortunately, but the Family Magics would be able to begin to ready themselves for that, which would help immensely when the time came for the Will to be executed.

Sirius had done a few small spots of House Black tidying up in some matters that would not tip their hand prematurely.  Sirius had spent a decade just a few cells away from his cousin Bellatrix, who was just as insane as ever.  Coupled with the knowledge that Voldemort had had no trouble raiding Azkaban in the Blood War- then as a purely preemptive measure to head off any financial support she might have if she escaped- Sirius had claimed any vaults in her name.  Normally he would have met with more resistance to such a thing- his vaults had remained untouched after his imprisonment, after all- but she had challenged him to a duel once back while he had still been Heir Black and she had lost that encounter.  Sirius had been able to claim Right of Conquest on the debt because he had never collected on that win- had been unable to after he had renounced his position as Heir- but the Family Magics had supported his claim which had tipped the scales in his favor.

As the Goblins had unilateral rights to any and all financial magics Sirius had wanted to impose a Penalty against the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ crap, but Xanxus had been adamant about not alerting whoever had apparently assumed the role of Harry’s Magical Guardian up until now.

Almost everyone thought that it was Harry’s Headmaster, but Xanxus was extra wary of people who reminded him of his shitty old man.  The man might have been a shitty parent but he was still a dangerous opponent who had managed to have a final trump card that had fucked up Xanxus’ life even more than before.

{ _Xanxus still had health issues related to his time in the Zero Point Breakthrough, after all.  While some could argue that Nono Vongola showed Xanxus mercy during the coup-that-was-not-actually-a-coup there were days- days when he was cold all the way down to his bones even though his Flames were within easy reach; days when his head throbbed relentlessly and his skin shriveled while his heart pounded far too quickly and his every breath was unsteady- when Xanxus firmly believed that mercy was a lie.  It was the one lesson he would teach the shitty brat purely in theory, so long as he was able_.}

Since the main estate was in Lockdown, Sirius suggested that they take a look at his childhood home and see what it would take to clean it up just in case they needed someplace to hide in an emergency.  Since Squalo and Esper- who had been concealing Sirius’ identity so he could make it to Gringotts without getting caught; not for free, of course, Sirius had paid the tiny miser quite handsomely from his newly acquired vaults- had agreed, it had led them to this point.

“That looked fun.” Harry snarked with a grin after he watched the doorknob draw blood from his Godfather and recede back into the wrought iron framework of the doorframe.  Once Sirius- who was inside the wards, so only Harry could see him- signaled at Harry the young teen had grabbed onto Squalo- Esper settling onto one of his shoulders- and guided the two across the street. 

Soon the foursome had made it past the imposing looking door and into a long, dark, foreboding hallway.

“Oh, you know, just my darling Mum’s cheery personality rubbing off on the house.” Sirius informed them breezily once the light from the outside had disappeared due to the closing of the door behind them. 

Sirius did not have a wand so Esper helpfully provided a floating orb of light as they cautiously made their way deeper into the house.

“ ** _VOI!_** This is-“ Squalo started to say as they made it into what seemed to be the entry room.

“SHAME OF MY FLESH!  TRAITOR TO HIS BLOOD!  HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE!  BRINGER OF SHAME TO THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!-” 

Harry and Squalo went back to back in an instant even as Esper’s Flames surged to bathe the entire area in blue-tinged light.  The light revealed a pair of tattered, black cloth panels that fluttered weakly on either side of a magical portrait.  The portrait was of a woman with sunken, wild eyes and black teeth sitting in an antique chair by a small tea table.  The beauty of the scene contrasted sharply with the deranged, shouting female in the elegant Victorian black dress.

“Ah, Mother, how nice of you to join us.”  Sirius snapped sarcastically in response to the verbal cruelty as he strode forward and tried to shove the tattered, moth worn curtains back over the woman’s portrait.

“ ** _VOI!_**   That’s your _mother_?!” Squalo yelped in shock as he watched Sirius wrestle with the curtains.

Harry could see why.  The woman might have been beautiful once, but her skin was sallow and hung off her in revolting wedges of droopy flesh.  “Can’t really see the resemblance.”  Harry muttered, horrified but unable to look away from the bizarre, shrieking woman.  “And I met Siri after he’d been in Azkaban for a decade.”

Just then an emaciated House Elf popped in and started attacking Sirius as well, but Harry’s world narrowed to the necklace in the elf’s tiny hands.

_Dangerdestroyitdestroyitdestroyitdangerdanger-_ Harry’s previously softly murmuring intuition was suddenly _shrieking_ , and as he’d been through this a few times already, Harry was in motion before he truly registered what was happening.

“ _Dobby_!” Harry roared as he moved, “Restrain the elf!”

Harry did not register the silence from the portrait, the questions from his companions, or Dobby who arrived and instantly fulfilled the order.  All Harry saw was the vile necklace that felt so incredibly _wrong_ as he called up his Flames and allowed them to envelop the necklace.

The elf dropped the thing almost instantly, but Harry continued to push all of his Will into his Flames, determined to see the thing utterly destroyed.  The tawny color of his Sky Flames were stained with vibrant red at the edges as the Flames eagerly consumed the necklace, the floor underneath, and all around it until there was an unearthly scream and Harry’s world went dark.

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When Harry came to not long after he was sitting on the floor with his back to a railing, with Squalo at his right, Esper on his left shoulder, and Sirius sitting right in front of him.

“You alright, pup?” Sirius asked worriedly as he saw Harry’s eyes flutter open in the dim light that Esper had them bathed in.

“Ugh, I gotta stop passing out after shit happens.” Harry groaned embarrassedly, burying his head into cloth covering Squalo’s shoulder and allowing himself a moment to appreciate just how truly achy and awful he felt.

“ _VOI!_  That thing was vile, kitty.”  Squalo’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet- though still far too loud for Harry’s head to handle at the moment- but his words were as full of feeling as usual.  “I would have passed out, pretty sure that even my damn shitty Boss would have passed out, too.”

“Indeed.  No amount of money would have allowed me to stay conscious.” Esper piped up softly, much more considerate of Harry’s headache, apparently, than Squalo had been.

“Urgh, that’s like, the third one of those things that I’ve taken out though, you’d think that I’d be better at this by now.” Harry murmured, far too comfortable to move, even as a part of him idly noted that Squalo really was not one for displays of affection and Harry was basically snuggling with the man’s shoulder.

“Third one, kitty?”

“Uhmmhmmm.”  Harry slurred blearily.  “The first was in the Room of Lost Shit before Xanxus broke out of the ZPB ice. The second was that diary that that stupid girl wrote in- that fight ended up freeing Boss as a side effect.  Now this one.  How many of those stupid things can there be?”

“Kreacher wishes to be serving the man who fulfilled Mater Regulus’ last request!” A squeaky but hoarse voice wailed from somewhere further away.

“Bes silent!”

_‘That’s Dobby, so the first voice must be that other House Elf’_ , Harry thought sluggishly as he tried to get his brain to stop screaming and function properly.  “Thanks for coming, Dobby.”

“Dobby is beings happys to helps Employer Harry Potter, sir!”  Dobby chirped with his usual enthusiasm.

“ ** _VOI!_**   What is the last request shit that the kitty supposedly fulfilled, tiny trash!?” 

_‘Squalo really needs a mute button.  Or a volume control of some kind.’_   Harry thought rather uncharitably.

“Kreacher does not answer to you muggle filth-“

“Kreacher, as Regent Black I order you to tell me.” Sirius interjected harshly, cutting off the elf’s protests quite rudely.

-“BLOOD TRAITORS!  BRINGING MUDBLOODS INTO THE HOUSE OF BLACK!   FILTH!  SHAME OF MY FLESH!  TO BRING THE UNWORTHY INTO THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS-“

“ _Fuck you, scum_!” Harry roared angrily at the old hag.  He was furious at the slight against his family member and in a considerable than a little pain.  Harry surged to his feet and nearly teleported over to the painting, taking great satisfaction in planting his Flame-covered hands on the portrait. “Shut the _fuck_ up!”

It took a few moments to overcome the enchantments, but Harry’s Flames chewed through them obediently all the same, despite the shrieks of the wretched painting at it dissolved into ash.  By the time he was finished the whole portrait had been consumed along with a generous amount of the area that immediately surrounded it.

Immediately after letting his Flames recede Harry stomped back over slumped down beside Squalo, where he reburied his face in the Varia Rain’s arm as Esper returned to his shoulder. 

Harry felt, more than heard, Squalo laugh and Sirius was making his glee quite evident. 

Harry could have sworn that he even heard Esper chuckling.

“Stupid old hag.” Harry snarled crossly as his headache ratcheted up a notch.

“Talk, Kreacher.” Sirius ordered sternly as soon as he had recovered from his mirth.

When the elf had finished his tale about the young man who had found out that the fiend that he had pledged his life to had split his soul and marked Regulus’ own, Harry’s head was still buried in Squalo’s shoulder.  Having done a few Sun Flame exercises his headache had decreased considerably, leaving him a little more open about trying to puzzle out what his intuition was attempting to tell him.

Focusing intently, Harry allowed the rest of the world to fall away as he retreated into himself, trying to get a better understanding of what his intuition was whispering at him.

“- can’t believe Reggie died trying to end the bastard.” Sirius was sighing sorrowfully somewhere in the background.  “He was always our parent’s favorite, the golden child.  It’s just hard to believe that he’d throw his life away to end the man dear old mum practically _worshipped_ -“

“-no amount of money would be worth ripping out my Flame.” Esper was grumbling beside Harry’s ear.  “It was disgusting to hear about it, but to watch the kitty destroy one of those ‘Flame containers’ shows how truly reprehensible the monster was-“

“-tell my damn shitty Boss.  He’s gonna be so pissed.  How many more of these fucking things can there be?”  Squalo wondered aloud from Harry’s other side.

“-Seven Flames if the man was a Sky-“

“-seven is a powerful magical number-“

“-sin, Bellatrix was trusted, should check her vaults, the ones I reclaimed today.  Malfoy had the diary, one was at Hogwarts, one here, if the Family Magics weren’t healing we could check-“

_Adaptability and resilience.  Interrupta Continuatio.  What if-_

Harry bolted upright. “What if he’s not dead?”  He blurted out suddenly as the pieces began to connect.

“ _What_?”

“Regulus.” Harry repeated as he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “He was the Heir after you left, right?  What if your Family Magic interfered?”

“Harry-” Sirius said in a pained voice.  “Reggie’s death was announced early in ’80.  By grandfather himself.  There’s no-”

“No.”  Harry interrupted Sirius firmly, shaking his head a bit to try to get the rest of the puzzle to come together, thankful that he no longer had to wear glasses all the time so that he could stare at Sirius without the stupid lenses always getting dirty and clouding up his vision. “My intuition.  It’s trying to tell me something about that cave, about your brother.”

“Are you sure, kitty?” Squalo asked sharply from his side.

Harry nodded earnestly as he turned to look Squalo in the eye.  Harry felt bad about dragging Sirius’ pain about his brother’s death out, but his intuition was getting more _insistent_.  “I don’t know if he’s alive or not, but my intuition is being really insistent.  We need to go to that cave for some reason and if we wait it will be too late.”

“Grandfather died during your Second Year, pup.  So if something tied to the Family Magic is happening in that cave it won’t be for much longer.” Sirius acknowledged reluctantly.  “Not after having two full years to heal.  The Family Magics for House Black were well maintained until just a few years ago, so they don’t need as much time to heal as the House Potter Family Magics did back in ’80.”

“I can feel echoes of the boy’s intuition in the boy’s mind.” Esper announced rather unexpectedly.  “And I have already been paid for today’s services.”  He added as an afterthought.

“ ** _VOI!_** ” Squalo proclaimed as he thumped his hand on the wooden floor decisively. “We’ll let the mutt to his magic thing and secure this place, and then we’ll head for this shitty cave.  Kitty’s intuition hasn’t been wrong yet.”

Xanxus had decreed that morning that all the portraits- filled or even just empty frames- were to be put in a single room and that the door was to be locked, silenced, and generally made as magically secure as possible.

Then Esper was supposed to reinforce all the magic with Mist Flames.  Xanxus was extremely suspicious of talking portraits who could travel between frames at will.

Thankfully, the entry room they were in had only housed the portrait of Sirius’ mother.  The elves- Dobby was more than happy to help and Kreacher was amendable enough once Harry explained that they were going to look for Master Regulus’ body so that he could be laid to rest- took about three hours to round up all the portraits and any empty frames.

Kreacher had even secured Sirius a wand. 

“I’d been using the rat’s wand.” Sirius explained as he traced out Runes in the air with the wand. “So I felt slimy every time I used it.  This is much better; I think that it was my father’s wand.”

“I thought that the want chose the wizard?” Harry asked curiously.  He was still leaning against Squalo a little, but after his demand to go to the cave he had realized that he’d been taking liberties with Squalo’s person and was suddenly very embarrassed about that fact.

“Ah, good ol’ Ollivander.” Sirius said with a nostalgic grin as he focused on his Godson. “It’s true that a wand that chose you will get you preferred results, but you can force almost any wand you pick up to work, it just has a high probability of fighting you and your magic.”

“ ** _VOI!_**   So you’ll be able to do that thing, then?” Squalo demanded more than asked.

“The _Fidelius Charm_.  An obscure charm that was discovered in the Potter Library by Lily just before Charlus’ death.  She forced James and I both to learn it as well, just in case.  It’s exhausting to cast, but most of the difficulty comes from having the correct Rune combinations- the _Fidelius_ uses Runes from six different alphabets, so you can imagine the margin of error for someone who doesn’t have explicit instructions- and knowing the correct sequence of wand movements to make.”  Sirius shrugged indifferently before he tipped his head to the side and gave Squalo a smile that was so full of teeth it was nearly a sneer.  “Harry will be the Secret Keeper, as agreed.”

“I’m not my damn Boss, doggie.  No need to get all territorial.”  Squalo snorted derisively as he levelled a flat stare at the man.  “I don’t trust you, but I know that kitty is one of us and you’re entirely loyal to him, so I’m not going to bitch.”

“Agreed.  I believe that you would walk away from us without hesitation should that be kitty’s decision, but the kitty is entirely committed to Xanxus and the Varia, so I also have no complaint.”  Esper chimed in calmly, quickly adding.  “You’ve also earned me a great deal of money.”

Harry gave his Godfather a bright, crooked grin.  He was a little annoyed at the man’s constant power struggle against the Varia, but also warmed by the man’s obvious devotion.  It was still refreshing to be around people who didn’t despise him for simply existing.  “Down, Siri, I think they get it.”

Sirius Black grinned and ruffled his Godson’s hair.  “Bah!  Don’t want them to forget whose team I’m on, pup!”

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 “Two weeks.”  Blaise complained mournfully.  “I left you alone for _two weeks_ , Adi.”

Harry grinned sheepishly at his Cloud Guardian.  “It wasn’t my fault.” He mumbled as he buried his face into his pillow.

Blaise had arrived yesterday, but this was the first time that they had truly had time to talk.  The boys were lounging in comfortable clothes on Harry’s bed at Varia HQ and Harry had just finished filling his Guardian in on all the excitement that the other boy had missed out on.

“Two weeks.” Blaise repeated plaintively as the Italian-born boy flopped across his Sky, resting his head in the curve of Harry’s back and looking up at the canopy of the bed as if it held all the answers.

“On the bright side, we made it in time to save Regulus.”  Harry input brightly.  “Mammon said that if we’d even been a week later he would have been too far gone to transport back here to Lussuria.  I even got to use my Sun Flames on someone else!”

“Mammon?”  Blaise enquired curiously.

Harry shifted around to lie on his back, so that his Guardian’s head rested on his stomach.  Harry wound absentminded fingers through Blaise’s hair with one hand and rested the other underneath his pillow. “Yeah.  Esper is more like a title, he prefers Mammon from those who know him.  I’m not entirely sure that ‘he’ is a ‘he’ but I don’t want to be rude.  Anyways, apparently the Family Magics moved to save Regulus, which disrupted his magic enough for him to awaken his Flames.  From what they’ve been able to gather he ended up in a similar state as Xanxus when Nono Vongola used the Zero Point Breakthrough.  Regulus, however, was barely alive because the Family Magics that preserved him started dissipating after his grandfather’s death.  Sirius thinks that it had something to do with Regulus having been presumed dead and therefore never officially removed from the line of succession for the Blacks.”

“Wow, so he was basically in stasis in the middle of a lake filled with Inferi.” Blaise whistled appreciatively.  “Talk about some shitty luck.”

“Yeah.”  Harry agreed and nestled further into his pillows as his hand idly combed through Blaise’s hair.   “Although having to spend a decade with the Dementors like Sirius did is pretty shitty too.”

“I’m surprised that Xanxus didn’t kill you.”  Blaise said wryly after a few minutes of companionable silence.

“Oh, he cursed at me for a good hour.  Regulus is being held in the prisoner sector underground, but Lussuria’s minions are taking care of him for now.  I don’t think that Xanxus would have allowed him that much leeway- what with that brand on his arm- but while we were trying to transport him it started to leech his- well, life force, I suppose.”  Harry reached up to scratch at his cheek somewhat sheepishly.  “I ended up forcing my Sky Flames into it- like I did for the soul containers; I even managed to overcome it and not pass out!  Mammon thinks that because Volde-trash’s soul isn’t entirely anchored to this plane of existence anymore the Sky Flames that made the brand were weakened and that allowed my Flames to overpower the brand without harming Regulus too much.”  Harry returned to idly toying with Blaise’s hair.  “He had ingested a pretty nasty poison before going for a dip in Lake Inferi, so he was really, really close to being dead even after we got him out of the lake.”

“So, what’s going to happen to him then?”  Blaise hummed thoughtfully.

“I think that they are going to leave babysitting up to Mammon, like with Sirius.  Since Siri is Regent Black now, he can force his brother to comply, and Mammon gets to charge Siri a boatload of money which Siri is going to pay up with from the Black Family Vaults.  So everyone wins on that account.  I have a good feeling about Regulus, though- like he’s going to be important- which helped a lot with Xanxus’ misgivings.  Also, Sirius is damn good at information gathering, especially the really tricky types.  Sirius says that Regulus was the better scholar, so I imagine Xanxus is planning on tossing them at WEATHER Squad so that WEATHER will be able to further refine their abilities and be able to open up new sorts of missions for the Varia.  Xanxus said everyone from WEATHER got partway through their magical schooling but they all have serious handicaps, so making headway in overcoming those would be an incredible boon for the Varia.”

“Hmmm.” Blaise mused wryly.  “Weird shit happens to you, Adi.”  Blaise’s voice took on his best Pansy Parkinson impression.  “A man disappears in 1979?  Let’s go dig him up from a super magically guarded place filled with undead zombies with a trained wizard, a half-trained wizard, a miser midget, and a swordsman.  Yes, sounds like fun.”

Harry giggled helplessly, his hand falling to Blaise’s shoulder as his body shook with mirth. “Well, w-when you put it that way-“

“You, Hadrian Potter, are a _trouble magnet_.”  Blaise pronounced solemnly as he twisted around just enough to give his friend a deadpan look before he settled back down and laid his head squarely on his friend’s abdomen with slightly more force than necessary.

“Oof.”  Harry grumbled in discomfort, giving his Cloud a sharp tug on a lock of hair as punishment.  “Prat.”

“It’s fair retribution for you constantly trying to give me grey hair.”  Blaise grumbled without heat. 

The two teens laid in companionable silence for a while, just resting, before Harry hesitantly interrupted it. “Hey, Blaise?”

“Hmm?”  The Cloud murmured drowsily.

“Is it-ah-I mean-um-“  Harry tripped over his words a bit before recovering. “How do you feel about the Ranking Event that starts in a few days?”  He finished lamely.

Blaise peered up at his Sky suspiciously. “That is _not_ what you were trying to ask.” He said flatly.

“N-no!  That’s exactly what I was going to say!”  Harry denied nervously, a red flush creeping up his neck at a rather alarming rate, coloring the tips of his ears before moving onto his cheeks.

“You have a terrible poker face outside of battle, Adi.”  Blaise pronounced with a rather annoyed expression.

“I do not!”  Harry denied vehemently, his cheeks flushing an even darker red as he began to sweat lightly.  “Now answer the question!”

“I will once you ask it.” Blaise retorted smartly.

“I _did_ ask a question!” 

“But not the one you _wanted_ to ask.”

“I still-“ Harry continued to protest weakly.

Blaise cut him off gently, but firmly. “Adi, I’m your Cloud Guardian and your best friend.  I can feel that you’re lying, you know.  You do remember the bond, right?” 

Harry chuckled nervously.

Blaise blew out an exasperated breath before he fixed Harry with a steady stare.  “We’re going to _war_ against traitors within the _Independent Assassination Squad_ in less than forty-eight hours and you need to be entirely focused or we’ll _die._   Now ask.”

Harry body was stiff with anxiety and he fidgeted for a little while but Blaise just settled back against his friend’s stomach and waited patiently, _knowing_ that this was important. 

Finally, after about a half hour of companionable, but expectant, quiet Harry asked in a small voice, “Is it weird to not really like girls?”

Blaise kept his body entirely relaxed, keenly aware of the fact that with Harry’s upbringing this was an extremely sensitive topic.  Blaise felt little sunbursts of warmth curl through him at the show of trust.  “Do you not like girls at all or do you like girls and guys?”

Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Harry as he hummed thoughtfully. “I think I just see people.” He finally decided after some more thought. “I mean I don’t really think that I’ve made it to the point in my development- I’ve been spending too much time around Mammon, he uses words like that- where I really want to have, er- _intimate contact_ with anyone, but I just see people, really.  I especially take note of how they act and treat others, that’s really important to me, I guess.  Whether or not they’re a decent human being when no one important is looking and there is nothing for them to gain from it.”

“I can see that.” Blaise pondered contemplatively.  “I haven’t really found anyone that I’m particularly interested in having _intimate contact_ -“ Blaise paused long enough to flick a blank look at his friend who let out a cheery laugh and relaxed fully, which had been the whole point of the action. “-either. But I can definitely see your point about seeing people instead of just ‘girl’ or ‘guy’ and judging them based on their actions.  Most of my issues stem from my mother’s many husbands and their subsequent demises.”

“Yeah, you’ve told me about that craziness.”  Harry cracked a sardonic grin.  “We make quite a pair, eh?”

“The _best_ pair.”  Blaise corrected smartly.

Harry beamed down at his battle-brother- sun bright, brilliant, and earnest. “ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere_.”

“ _Finché le fiamme della mia anima non diverranno cenere_.”  Blaise agreed as he threaded his fingers through the hand on his shoulder.  Blaise knew- just from being a good friend that paid attention- that Harry was tactile by nature, meaning that the Cloud did not really need the gentle, insistent nudges of his bond to tell him that his friend could use some affirmation that Blaise was not disgusted by his curiosity.

That did not mean that Blaise was not intrigued by what else the bond could convey once it matured.

Eh, he was a Slytherin.  Curiosity and pursuing innovative concepts was what they did.

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“ _Settle the fuck down, trash_!” Xanxus’ roar washed over the area like a death knell, instantly silencing the twenty four people standing in the field just outside of Varia HQ.

The Varia Officers all stood around and slightly behind Xanxus with their professional game faces on, lending an air of finality to the gathering.  Xanxus made a signal and Squalo stepped forward.

“ ** _VOI_**!”  The Rain Officer bellowed tersely, his eyes sword sharp and his muscles rippling gracefully as he paced along an invisible line in between the participants and the Officers.  “As all of you scum are aware, this is a Ranking Event, which allows you the opportunity to move up the food chain!”  Squalo purposefully swept his unforgiving, dispassionate gaze over the assembled crowd before continuing.  “Per Varia tradition you will be paired into teams and then you and your teammate will be given Varia emblems of matching colors that will be placed around your necks.  Each category will have two teams of two. Your objective is to obtain three different colored emblems by any means necessary, which means lethal force is authorized.  Bear in mind that authorization of lethal force does mean you slaughter everyone you come across; showing restraint when necessary plays a part in how you are evaluated.  Completing the objective does not guarantee promotion.”

A snort of derision was heard from the crowd and Squalo zeroed in on the owner like a shark scenting blood. “Got something to share, Morette?”  He barked authoritatively.

“Yes, what about the _brats_?”  Morette mocked, slanting a contemptuous sneer in Harry and Blaise’s direction.

“What about them?” Squalo replied levelly as Xanxus immediately upped the intensity of his Flame pressure behind Squalo.  The incorporeal force of Xanxus’ Flames was so intense that it felt as if actual tiny tongues of fire were licking along every inch of Squalo’s exposed skin. “They are a part of the Ranking Event, which means they are possible opponents.  Age does not matter in the Varia, _scum_.  You know this.  Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Their funeral.” Another voice scoffed from further back.

“Time will tell.”  Squalo replied coolly as he graced the assembled an icy, chilling smirk.

Xanxus took up the explanations from there while Squalo continued stare down the prospective candidates.

“As usual teams will be decided by the lottery.  As you scum can fucking see Levi is holding two containers- a red one and a blue one.  Lussuria will pull a token out of the red container and a name out of the blue one.  No do overs, no fucking complaints about your partners.“  Xanxus’ voice reverberated with barely suppressed power, slicing through the heavy atmosphere with the same ease as a piping hot flame brand placed against the tender flesh of an animal.   “Once the tokens have been matched to names you will be led down to the Event Arena by the Varia Officer whose color you represent.  You will be given the token immediately before you enter the Event Arena.  Purple teams are with me as we are short a Cloud Representative.   Reporting to an extraction point early without having completed the objective is treated the same as not having completed the objective by the time the forty-eight hour time limit expires.  However, those who drop out early do receive medical attention.  Lussuria, begin.”

As Lussuria began match people up Harry felt his hands shake; he desperately wished that he was standing beside Blaise. 

It had been decided that they boys would be separated and then ‘unexpectedly’ paired together.  Due to the possibility of Blaise being recognized as a relative of Nono’s Cloud Guardian both boys had had their hair both dyed and then charmed a different color.  Harry was sporting a deep red hue that was almost black and while Blaise wore a fetching chestnut brown- the double layered disguise intended to confuse the ones who could see through illusions or spot the dye.  Their eye colors had been charmed as well but Sirius and Mammon weren’t sure if the charm would hold since Squalo hadn’t even noticed that the charm had been applied.  Mammon would have added Mist Flame infused contacts for Harry disguise- Blaise’s regular eye color had been deemed common enough to not need a second layer of protection- but Harry’s eyes were still healing and Lussuria objected on the grounds that the Mist Flames might possibly cause Harry’s eyesight to deteriorate.

Xanxus had agreed with Lussuria- Mist Flames were beyond amazing but Harry’s case was rather unique and the Varia Boss did not want to take any unneeded risks with the brat’s recovery- so Harry was sporting only one layer of misdirection on his eyes.

“Artemis.” Lussuria called, snapping Harry out of his thoughts and back into the present. Harry mentally sulked at the Varia code name that he had been assigned. 

Oh, he liked Artemis well enough as a Greek goddess and found her legend to be fairly inspiring- Artemis was totally badass in her own ways.  But Harry just _knew_ that Xanxus had chosen the name because Artemis was female and Xanxus still had not let go of Harry’s ‘girly weapon’ idea.

_“I’ll show him_.’  Harry groused while also taking a moment to appreciate just how terrifying the Varia Officers were when they were in full work mode.  ‘ _Totally makes for a terrifying work environment_.’  He mused idly.

“Janus.” Lussuria called not a moment later causing Harry to mentally grumble about how his Cloud Guardian got a _manly_ name that was based on the Roman god of doors, beginnings, and endings.

“Alright, trash, move out.”  Xanxus bellowed, and soon enough Blaise and Harry were walking side by side as they followed the Varia Boss through the halls of Varia HQ.

‘ _One way trip_.’

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	7. Responsibility

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** Chapter Seven **

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The Event arena was actually a series of training rooms on three lowest levels of the underground training sector that had been retrofitted to look like towns or cities from various parts of the world and populated with illusions that Mammon and his minions provided.  To be eligible to join the Varia you had to be fluent in at least seven languages, and these rooms were normally used by operatives to immerse themselves into the cultures of a country they would be infiltrating.

Each team had their own starting point as there were sixteen separate ‘towns’ to start from.

Blaise and Harry stood in front of a quaint little English town and waited at the designated point for the Event to begin, the emblems on the Mammon-made chains around their necks.

“Ready?” Blaise murmured to Harry as the Italian born teen readjusted the knife holster on one arm- briefly checking the wand holster that held his wand on the other arm- before fiddling with the strap that held the generic but serviceable short sword on his back.  Blaise was wearing sturdy but elegant looking black pants with a white button up shirt with a Varia jacket thrown over it; this ensemble was paired with durable boots and their Event-provided black bag of standard-issue equipment thrown carelessly over a shoulder.

“Yeah.” Harry tried to grin confidently at his friend, nerves and dread pooling in his gut as his intuition coiled through his chest like a caged lion.  Harry was dressed in dark brown cargo pants, a sleeveless black zip-up hooded sweatshirt over a long sleeved white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.  His Cloak was wrapped around his torso, the bulge hidden by his own Varia jacket.  His sturdy boots hid a few more emergency weapons while his dagger and several smaller blades were slipped into cleverly hidden holsters at various other points; his wand was slipped into a wand holster on his left arm.

They were able to use their wands since Sirius- having a wand that responded much better than the rat’s had- had managed to break the Trace after some trial and error.

To be fair, not only had he been raised a Black he had also been an Auror during the Blood War, so it wasn’t much of a stretch for his abilities. 

Xanxus had warned the teens to be cautious in revealing their magic as Italy had their own Traces, even though WEATHER Squad had wards up and Mammon and his minions had reinforced those with Mist wards.  However he also wanted them to be prepared and able if they needed to resort to using their magic because their targets were seasoned assassins.

“We’ve got this.” Blaise said to his extra pale looking friend with a confident grin before it turned cheeky and he tacked on.  “ _Artemis_.”

Harry huffed in exasperation even as he marveled at his Cloud Guardian’s resilience. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up _Janus_.  Just wait, I’ll make my girly weapon idea so fucking awesome-“ He was cut off by the signal blaring.

The Ranking Event had begun.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry cursed as he circled around the building, trying to make his way back to Blaise as he hastily attempted to patch the rather deep slash that he had taken from Morette’s bowie knife. 

At only three hours into the Event he and Blaise had managed to locate their first two targets fairly quickly.  

Morette, a known conspirator of the former Varia Cloud, and his partner, Fercelli.

With some careful planning they had managed to take out Fercelli- who had apparently been the lookout- but Morette was proving to be a slippery bastard.  They had managed to destroy the phone he had been using, so at least whoever had been on the other end did not know who, exactly, had targeted him.

“Artemis!” Harry heard Blaise call out nervously, and Harry ran as fast as the Cloak would let him, having slipped it on and silenced his shoes once he’d vanished the blood that had hit the ground. 

Harry careened into the room- they were in a rather generic American city at the moment- just in time to witness Morette back the wounded Blaise- he was bleeding pretty badly from his left arm- into an awkward corner and raise his gun.

“Punk.” Morette sneered at the downed Cloud as he pulled the trigger.

Only, the gun never fired because Harry hastily raised his wand and cast the _Diffindo Charm_ at the base of the man’s neck at point blank range.

“Ad-rtemis.” Blaise breathed in relief as Harry hurried over to do what he could to patch his friend up.

“Those were the two that Xanxus was most worried about.” Harry murmured, ever mindful of the surveillance equipment that he knew Xanxus had in place.

No use in leaving any overt evidence of Xanxus’ involvement in the two’s demise; just in case shit went sideways and the tapes ended up in the wrong hands.

“Hmmm.” Blaise replied just as lowly as he rotated his arm a bit and nodded at Harry.  The young Potter then took to wrapping bandages around the remaining injury as he cut off the steady supply of Sun Flames he had been feeding into the wound.   “Four more, two more teams.  Are you ok?”

Harry’s grin was weak but his eyes were resolved.  “I really don’t enjoy ending lives, but I’m also not going to back out and fail.  These people are endangering my Family.  I cannot and will not let that happen, even if it means killing.”  Harry sighed softly. “I’m going to have nightmares, though, I can just feel them.”

Blaise put a hand on his Sky’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’ll be there, Artemis, last time, this time, and next time.  Always.”

Harry’s smile was wobbly and his eyes were wet, but his voice was steady when he replied. “Same here.”

“Oh!  Their emblems!”  Harry remembered as they went to secure the corpses.

“I almost forgot, too!”  Blaise grunted as they set down the body and stripped off the emblem.  “What do you think?  Behind the dumpster?  Put goon number one’s prints on the walls and leave a blood trail to him?”

“Good plan, I like it.”  Harry replied as he checked for any ‘civilian witnesses’.  “This way.”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The teens kept moving for the next few hours, traveling through three ‘zones’ and encountering one other team.  That team wasn’t one of their targets, so Blaise and Harry chose incapacitate them and move on without taking their emblems.

After that they took great pains to not be spotted by the other teams, though they came across a couple of bodies.

It was about eighteen hours since the start of the Event when they caught sight of their other targets, which was the good news.

The bad news was that all four targets were clearly working together and battling against another team.

The zone was of a quaint little Belgian town, which provided lots of cover, but the four targets- Ricco, Aldo, Paulo, and Amo- were all gun users and had been partners for years.  The team that they were fighting against consisted of a Sun who preferred hand-to-hand and a rather unhinged Storm that used a wickedly curved short sword. 

The four gunmen were rather securely position inside a building and the other team was huddled behind the remains of an awning from a nearby building on the sidewalk.

Clearly these guys did not give a damn about property damage, but apparently the Mist had set up an aversion zone.

Harry and Blaise huddled together in the shadows of a building and plotted their next move.

“Paulo and Aldo are the most volatile and the leaders of their teams, we need to target them first.” Harry deliberated quietly.  He cursed softly.  “I wish I could use some Mist Flames or Rain Flames, it would make things easier.  This aversion zone is barely holding together as is, I use too much Sun or Storm and it’ll fall and we’ll be in a whole ‘nother spot of bother.”

“Agreed.  I hope I’ll eventually be able to pull up a secondary.  Can we set a trap?” Blaise queried, cocking an eyebrow at his Sky.

Harry pondered it for a moment before shaking his head. “No, too much of a chance of collateral damage from our non-target teams.  If only we could switch-“

Harry looked at Blaise; Blaise looked at Harry.

“Switching Spells.” They said in unison.

“The _Disillusionment Charm_ doesn’t work well on Flame users- only for a few seconds really- but we just need a moment of surprise on our side.” Blaise plotted out loud as he cautiously took another peek at the warring squads. “Switching spells aren’t usually used on people because the magic they require is proportional to the mass of the objects, but I think that we could make it work.  We both have a fair bit of magical power and we won’t be solely relying on it to fight with.”

Harry rewrapped his Cloak around his torso and they carefully inched forward to better assess the targets. “We should hit the area with a _Lumos Maxima_ to make them shield their eyes and then hit the two non-targets with a _Confundus_ just before we switch.  Activation to knock out the non-targets?”

Blaise glanced around and then nodded in agreement. “I agree, the awning we’re under will protect us, but we’ll still have line of sight.”  He glanced at Harry curiously.  “You can use Activation to knock people out?”

“Sure.”  Harry chirped back cheerfully.  “There’s several ways to do it, but _sorella_ taught me how to just use a touch at the temple.”

“Handy.”  Blaise muttered rather sulkily.  “I want to play with other Flame Aspects.”

“Someday.”  Harry informed his friend with a bright grin before he once again turned serious.  “Great, fifteen seconds from mark and I’ll fire the _Maxima_ at the mission targets.  Once it leaves my wand, you hit the switching targets with the _Confundus_ , and switch them with debris.  I knock them out and you hit us with the _Disillusionment Charms_.  Fifteen seconds later we switch with the debris and move in- agreed?”

“Agreed.” Blaise confirmed and they steadied their wands.

Thankfully they had spent a few days with WEATHER Squad and they were fairly confident in their aim.  ‘Threading the Needle’ with Yakov had been quite challenging but rewarding.

“Alright, 3….2…..1.  Mark.”  Harry called out firmly, immediately taking aim and counting down the first fifteen seconds in his head.

Fifteen seconds later a ball of brilliant blue hued light hurled itself towards the men still holed up inside the shop.  Beside Harry Blaise quickly cast the _Confundus_ spells on the other team.

“Now.”  Harry whispered, Sun Flames prepped and ready. 

Blaise switched the two non-targets with some handy nearby debris and Harry quickly knocked them out properly.  While Harry knocked them out Blaise cast the _Disillusionment Charms_ and then they switched with the debris.

Harry and Blaise were across the town and into the building before their opponents had truly blinked the spots from their eyes.  Blaise managed to slash through Paulo’s throat before the Charm broke- Flames tended to eat away at it as the Charm merely bent the light around a person instead of actually removing them from reality- but Aldo managed to dodge Harry’s killing blow. 

While it still resulted in serious injury the man wasn’t dead yet.

Unfortunately, Ricco and Amo had recovered and were taking aim, meaning that Harry and Blaise were having to dodge bullets at close range.

Not exactly an optimal situation, but not nearly as lethal as it would have been for a non-Flame user.  There was damn good reason why Settimo had developed his X-Guns, aside from his rather weak Sky Flames.  Flames users who were _smart_ could nullify a bullet- or ten- meaning it took more than one or two shots to take down a Flame user, unlike a normal human.

Well, unless the gun user was also smart and figured out how to upgrade their ammunition.

 _‘I owe Levi a Christmas present.  Freaking improvising weirdo.’_   Harry thought as he dodged another spray of bullets and blocked the back exit.  Aldo was bleeding out fairly quickly but he was still able to shoot, which was causing an issue.  ‘ _Blaise and I are dead at this rate and at this range, but we can’t afford to let them leave and go to ground or use the terrain to their advantage or we’ll really be screwed.  I really hope that Xanxus isn’t watching this or he’ll kill me.’_

With that cheerful thought Harry ran towards Ricco, who had the best aim.  The lapse of concentration cost him, though, and he tried to ignore the agony that blossomed in his leg as he was a little too slow to dodge and-or nullify a few bullets. 

Reaching his target Harry gracefully slid inside the man’s guard and swiftly plunged his dagger through the bottom of the man’s jaw and up into his brain.  It took a few moments and Ricco’s hands came up to wrap around Harry’s throat in his death throes, but Harry wrenched his dagger free and managed to stagger backwards before the man could take him down with him.

Harry’s intuition suddenly _wailed_ , which had him dropping and rolling before he truly realized what was happening. 

Harry realized what was going on when bullets tore through the air where he had been only a heartbeat before, and he rolled behind the cooling corpse of Ricco before his mind fully processed what was happening.  Feeling more than a little disgusted about using a human body as a shield- but lacking the time to truly ponder the action at the moment- Harry peeked over his temporary shelter just in time to witness Blaise plunge his short sword into Amo’s armpit.  Blaise quickly removed the weapon and dodged Amo’s suddenly lifeless arm as he went to follow up with a killing blow to the back of the neck, unaware of the oncoming spray of bullets from Aldo.

Harry was up and plunging his dagger into the base of Almo’s skull in an instant, managing to redirect most of the volley away from his Guardian, but a couple of bullets grazed Blaise’s left side and thigh, causing the other to release a short bark of pain as Amo’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

It was at that moment that Harry’s own injuries reasserted themselves.

“Aghn!” Harry cried out, trying to swallow the screams that wanted to burst forth, “Ja—aanus.  Can you get their e-mblems?” He managed to ask shakily.

Blaise grimaced, but nodded, trying to stem the blood flow of his own wounds. “Got them.” He reported after a moment, voice level but Harry could hear the pain that the other’s tone.

“Alright, the exaction point isn’t that fa-ah-r.”  Harry gritted out through the pain. “Do you have enough magic to _Disillusion_ us again?  I can set fire to the place with some Disintegration and we can be-e-”  Harry let out a gasp of pain and quickly tried to level out his voice once more.  “-out of here before the Mist fully clears.  The other two are fairly concealed, but really I just want this to be over.”

Blaise nodded in reply, reaching down to help Harry stand. 

Well, they leaned against each other and hobbled towards the exit.

“Brilliant.”  Harry muttered as they made it to the back door and Harry unwrapped his Cloak and looked for something to use to start a fire.  “Actually, let’s just leave this and we’ll put on my Cloak.   Fuck this noise.”

“Ditto.”  Blaise gritted out as they tossed the Cloak over themselves and made for the nearest Extraction Point.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry was only peripherally aware of the hands that held his hair out of his face as he vomited into the toilet.

“Adi, breathe Adi-it’s alright sweetling, I’m right here.  It’s okay.” Lussuria’s voice finally managed to penetrate the fog left by the horrific nightmare.

“Luss?” Harry croaked out, reaching blindly for the Varia Sun.

Arms wrapped around him, tugging him to sit against the bathroom wall.  Somewhere in the background the toilet’s flush could be heard, and then there was a glass of water pressed against his lips.

“Drink, kitty.” Squalo’s voice ordered.

Harry obediently opened his mouth and swallowed the liquid, coughing a bit when the glass slipped and let a little too much water flow into his mouth.

As his heart rate returned to normal Harry cautiously cracked his eyes open and was pleased to note that the lighting in the bathroom was low enough to not irritate his headache. 

Then he took stock of his rather unexpected company.  Aside from Blaise in the doorway.

“Squalo?  Luss?  Mammon?  What are you guys doing here?”  Harry croaked out miserably.  “How did I get back to my room?  This _is_ my bathroom right?”

“If you recall-” Blaise drawled from the bathroom doorway. “- we crashed in your room after we were released from the Infirmary.”

Lussuria sat down beside Harry and fussed over the young teen. “Mammon could sense the disturbance in your sleep and alerted me, and since I was with Squalo at the time, he came too.”  Lussuria’s hands alternated between running soothing circles on Harry’s back and carding fingers gently through his hair.  “You need to tell us about it, hon.”

“I don’t want-“ Harry protested even as he leaned into Lussuria’s reassuring touch.  _‘To be weak.  To be unworthy.  To be sent away.  To be ripped from this place and these people and shoved back into being the boy who would do anything for a scrap of affection just because I can’t handle doing what is required of me.  I can’t-‘_

“Child.”  Mammon floated over to be eye level with Harry.  Though the hood covered the tiny Arcobaleno’s eyes, Harry felt the heavy gaze settle over him; the penetrating stare piercing through Harry’s inner turmoil, seeming to see through all the way to the teen’s soul.  “You are a Sky, which means that your main attribute is Harmony.  Harmony is balance and give and take; always growing, always learning; forever seeking a way to see things from both sides of an issue or argument.  That is the true nature of a Sky.  You, child, have the potential to be a damn good Sky.  However you need to let us in so that we can help you heal.  Otherwise the actions that you have had the heart to undertake on behalf of the Famiglia will fester and corrupt all that is good within your heart.  You must make peace- find balance- in your actions or you, yourself, will fall into Disharmony.”

Harry’s eyes watered a little, but he didn’t look away from Mammon. “What do you mean?”  He asked helplessly.

“A Sky, kitty-“ Squalo spoke up from where he was leaning against the sink, his arms crossed across his chest with his hair in its nighttime braid.  “-has the potential to be a remarkable leader or a manipulative dictator.  Elements are so happy to find their Sky- their home- that they will do whatever they can to protect them.  Sky Charisma can be wielded almost like that mind control curse that the magical trashes use.  Skies are rare, _good Skies are even rarer_ , _kitty_.  To be a good Sky you need to understand that no man is an island.  Keeping everything inside your mind without speaking to your closest confidants is how gross overconfidence and a mindset of ‘my way of thinking is superior’ or ‘only I can make the correct decisions’ starts.”

“Like Nono or the Headmaster.”  Harry mumbled quietly as he tore his gaze away from Squalo’s and leaned further into Lussuria’s gentle hold.

“Harmony as your aspect means that you are incredibly empathetic towards others.  At least in the sense of always wanting to learn of others and their ways.” Lussuria continued from beside Harry, absently fussing with the teen’s shaggy hair.  “Skies that ‘go bad’ tend to use this ability for their own gain and twist the people around them to their whims before discarding them.  Or, even worse, turning into men like Timoteo.  Men with all the noble intentions, virtuous ideas, and the raw power to make things happen but none of the follow through to make those intentions reality; a crusader who believes the end justifies the means.  The terrible potential of a Sky’s natural talents are very nearly a curse to those few good Skies who truly want to be the best Boss that they can.”

Blaise padded over nearly noiselessly and knelt so that he was eye level with Harry.  “You, Adi, are a blessing and I am fiercely proud to call you my friend and my Sky.  But I think that you look at how everyone around you deals with death and you set the standard of ‘normal’ there; meaning that you judge your own reactions by that standard and you feel like reacting otherwise is ‘abnormal’ and therefore _wrong_ or _weak_.  Because you don’t want to be the _freak_ again, right?”

Harry flinched at the blunt assessment but was honest enough to bob his head in agreement.

“ ** _VOI!_**   I’m gonna kill those Dursley fuckers.” Squalo burst out suddenly, shattering the tension and drawing light chuckles from the other occupants of the room.

“They will be in debt to me until their great-grandchildren die.” Mammon echoed darkly.

Harry threw his head back and _laughed_.  It was tinged with a bit of hysteria and tapered off into relived hiccups as he snuggled further into Lussuria and tugged Blaise down on his free side.  “You guys are fucking _awesome_.”

“Naturally.”  Lussuria chirped brightly as Squalo grinned and plopped down on the floor.  Surprisingly Mammon deigned to settle himself down onto the floor as well.

“As I was saying, child, the Harmony factor means that you react to things differently.”  Mammon counseled matter-of-factly.  Somehow the nearly business-like tone was far more comforting than it had any right to be.  “Xanxus is a Sky as well, but he also possesses Wrath Flames which were last seen in the Second Boss of the Vongola, not to mention that you both are very different individuals.  Knowing this it would make sense that those of us who follow him are also different so you should not base your reactions to taking a life on our own.  You are your own person.”

“Right on, miser midget!  Look kitty, if you are going to react like this to taking lives that is fine, we’re not going to judge you.”  Squalo tossed his braid over his shoulder and waved his arm around negligently.  “Puke, cry- do whatever, just don’t hold it all in when you’re back home and safe.  You’ve done an excellent job of keeping yourself together in the field and that’s all that matters. What you do when you’re at home is _our_ business as a Family.  We- even Xanxus, the lazy damn bastard- don’t think that you’re weak.  Just human.”

Harry’s eyes were dripping but he refused to look away from his friends- his _Family_ \- and suddenly something inside him finally slotted into place.  “I’m allowed to show weakness here because this is _home_ and you guys are my _Family_.”

“Finally, he gets it!”  Squalo exclaimed in fond exasperation.  “Now, talk kitty.  Some of us have to wake up the shitty Boss in the morning.”

“Later this morning.”  Lussuria corrected with far too much cheer.  “For a meeting with Nono.”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

A few hours later the two teens- both feeling significantly lighter- tumbled back into bed.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry and Blaise were roused by Sirius roughly shaking them awake. “Get up!  You need to get up now!”  The man said as he urged them awake.

“Siri?”  Harry mumbled sleepily as he tried to disentangle himself from his blankets and Blaise. “Wha?”

“Erg.”  Blaise mumbled also struggling to bring himself back to full consciousness.

When Harry could finally focus on the world around him he saw that Sirius was frantically packing everything in sight.  “What’s going on?”

“We have to get you back to the trash, shitty brat.”  Xanxus’ voice came from the door, taut with tension.  “CEDEF is coming to ‘inspect’ us and those shitty Wards aren’t as charged as they should be, according to the dog trash and Mammon.  We’re going to have the Cloud brat stay with the dog trash, his trash brother, and Mammon at that shitty house in England.  Once the Wards are charged you’re going to stay with them.”

Harry’s heart sank and it must have showed on his face because Xanxus crossed the room in a few quick strides and thumped the boy solidly on the head. “Shitty brat, I have about a thousand things that I have to put on hold in regards to you and the Cloud brat’s training because those CEDEF _fuckers_ are grasping at straws.  Stop being a needy little bitch.  Mammon will be with you, so you’ll still be getting trained.  By next summer Varia will be back to business as usual and we’ll be able to think long term, but for now we can’t afford to tip our hand.”

Harry smiled sheepishly at his mentor, feeling a little ashamed of his neediness.  He noted that Xanxus’ ire didn’t actually seem to be aimed at him and the revelation from the night before was still sending tendrils of warmth spiraling through him, so he gave his mentor a firm nod and got up.

It didn’t take them long to gather up everything, though they had needed to separate out a few things that Sirius had packed as Harry’s by mistake.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

“Blaise, are you sure you don’t want to go to your uncle’s or anything?”  Harry asked concernedly as they loitered in the front hall of Varia HQ, waiting on the car that would take them to the airport.

Blaise snorted rather derisively. “I adore Zio Tito, but he’s Nono’s Guardian and I don’t want to end up in the middle of something that would cause him to choose between us.”

“Blaise, I-“  Harry began to say, a pained look crossing his features, only for the Cloud to kindly, but firmly interrupt him.

“Shut up, Adi.  Things will be _fine_.” Blaise said firmly, grasping one of Harry’s shoulders and forcing him to meet Blaise’s gaze, “You need to stop blaming yourself for everything bad that happens.  _Shit happens_ , Adi.  It’s just the way life is.”

“Listen to your Cloudy Guard, sweetling!” Lussuria popped up behind Harry and swept him into one of those ridiculous dance-hug-things that the man was so fond of springing on him.  “I know it’s rough right now, but it’ll get better and we’re all in this together.  Stop being a moody teenager and making everything about you, lovely.  It’ll give you wrinkles.”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Hedwig- who had stayed in England to help with the charade of Harry still being at Number Four- was overjoyed to see her master.

Which was to say that Harry spent the better part of a day spoiling her.  Again.

Harry _really_ fucking loved that owl.  She was so smart and brave and lovely and wonderful………..

Dobby had been happily assisting in the cleanup of Number Twelve with Kreacher and had brought Harry a mirror that allowed him to say Sirius’ name and talk to whoever was holding it.  So it was that he discovered that on top of physical training, assisting Mammon in various tasks including tending to Regulus Black, he and Blaise would be cramming languages during the remainder of the summer.

Except when Mammon said ‘languages’ it was more like ‘entire cultures’ that were going to be crammed into their brains, because Mammon was a _perfectionist_ like that.

Harry puttered around for about a week.  He whiled away his time chatting about his homework with Blaise over the mirror, tossing weapons ideas back and forth with everybody- including Regulus a few times- and generally coming to terms with himself about a lot of things.

It was the second Sunday of July- and had Hogwarts only been over for a month?- that he received an unexpected letter.

Harry had been happily chatting with Blaise on the mirror when a column of fire coalesced into being not three feet in front of him.  Harry laid the mirror down and leapt back calling his Flames forth, only to extinguish them when he realized that the fire column was actually Fawkes, who had a parchment in his beak.  “Hey, buddy, is that for me?”

Fawkes trilled cheerily, hopping over to drop the missive on Harry’s lap and then swooping over to Hedwig’s perch.

Harry got the vague impression that his lovely owl was blushing.  ‘ _Weird.’_

Harry unrolled the letter, which was written in elegant, loopy script.

“ _My dear boy,_

_I hope that your summer is going quite well!  Mine is rather spectacular, if I do say so myself, as I found these most wonderful candies called ‘WarHeads’ that are delectably tart._

_I shall have to bribe the House Elves to put some on the student’s pillows this year._

_Alas, I digress; the Weasley family has extended an invitation to you to attend the Quidditch World Cup with them._

_This event, as I am sure you are aware, is held every four years and rotates through the countries which support Quidditch teams each year.  It is fortunate that this year the event is to be held here in England, and the event kicks off the twenty-second, which is the second Monday before Hogwarts is set to begin._

_I understand that you and young Ronald have had your issues, but I noticed that you seemed to be quite attached to the rather mischievous twins for the latter part of last school year._

_While I would not presume to make this decision for you, I would offer a bit of advice: Do not let the past rule you, Harry.  You may learn from it and grow from your experiences, but it does no one any favors to dwell there._

_Fawkes will wait for your reply, as the Weasley family has had no luck in contacting you directly, and I believe that my companion would not mind a bit of a delay should you wish to take some time to reflect on your decision.  Personally, I believe that he is quite taken with your stunning Hedwig, but then what do I know, hm?_

_Best Regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore_ ”

Blaise’s deadpan stare was striking, even through the distortion of the mirror.  “I want to be that level of manipulative awesome someday.” He said dryly after Harry read the letter out loud for the occupants of Number Twelve.

Hedwig and Fawkes had gone off on a flight, so Harry had felt safe in digging up the mirror.

“Right?” Harry responded cheerfully as he read through the letter again, absolutely entranced by the Headmaster’s effortless handling of the situation.  “He’s _good_ , Blaise.  I’m so glad that Xanxus is a paranoid bastard or I would have been caught _ages_ ago.”

“The World Cup, though, that’s a big deal.”  Blaise commented rather cagily.

Harry gave his friend a rather pointed look. “To be honest I’m not that thrilled about it.  Quidditch has always been more about the flying part for me.  I wasn’t going to play this year anyways because we are going to have to study our asses off to pass our OWLs in June so we can get the hell out of Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, but the twins are your future Guardians- _don’t give me that look Adi, you know I’m right_ \- so it would do you some good to spend some time with them in their natural habitat.”

“You make them sound like zoo animals, Blaise.”  Harry retorted exasperatedly.

“If the shoe fits…..”  Blaise allowed his statement to trail off meaningfully.

Both boys snickered for a while after that comment. 

“I really don’t want to be away from you, though.  _Shut up, prat_.  I mean, we’re already in separate houses at school, and I’ve gotten a wrong feeling from my intuition every time I think about the upcoming school year-“

“ _Fuck_.” Blaise hissed tensely, cutting Harry off abruptly as he descended into multi-lingual swearing.  “ _Merde_.  _Podqvolite.   Do řiti.  Scheisse.  Merda._ ”

“Huh?”  Harry asked amusedly as he adjust the mirror to try to see whatever Blaise was seeing- and apparently cursing at. “I only caught a couple of those.”

“The child basically said shit- or a variant thereof- in five different languages.  Someone has been taking notes from Squalo, I see.”  Mammon’s amused voice floated from the mirror and Blaise actually blushed.  “Perhaps I should institute a swear jar as a way to earn money.”

“Shite.”  Blaise promptly cursed. 

Mammon gleefully demanded seven Knuts immediately afterward and Blaise grudgingly paid up.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

 “Ah, crap!” Skull cursed as he sped down the narrow streets of the small German town on his motorcycle.  He fumbled for his phone, nearly dropping it several times before managing to hit the speed dial.  He managed to stuff the thing back into his pocket while simultaneously jamming the ear piece into his ear.  “C’mon, Viper.”  He muttered lowly as the line continued to ring and he made another sharp turn in an attempt to throw off his pursuers.

“ _Time is money, Skull_.”  Viper’s voice floated into his ear.

“Viper!  Oh thank Death!  I need you to pull me to you!” Skull rambled out quickly.

“ _It will cost you and you will need to be stopped._ ”  There was the sound papers rustling and then a sneeze.

“Have I ever stiffed you, Viper?  I know it’s going to cost, but I really pissed these guys off.”  Skull grimaced as he flipped around and opened the throttle a bit more.

“ _No you haven’t and what did you do_?”  Viper asked, mildly curious.

Skull snarled as he made a tricky jump across a narrow inlet and sped further away from the sounds of his pursuers. “They didn’t read my contract and when I found my target it was a kid.  A mafia kid, but you know I don’t take hits on anyone less than eighteen.”

“ _…do not panic when you arrive, there are things that will need to be explained to you_.”  Viper cautioned the other with an intriguing note of warning lacing the tone.

Skull let a small smile creep onto his face underneath his helmet.  “I trust you, Viper.  Always.”

“ _Very well, be prepared_ _to be intercepted in ninety seconds_.”  Viper announced, once again all business.

“Thank you, Viper.”  Skull sighed gratefully as he began to deaccelerate.

“ _Thank me after you have paid me, Skull._ ”  Viper’s phrase was comforting in its familiarity.

Skull carefully counted down and just before the deadline came to an abrupt stop.  Not even a second later Viper’s Flames descended onto him, wrapping him tightly and _heaving_.  Viper charged through the nose for this service because it was very taxing for him to perform and Skull wouldn’t have called if he wasn’t desperate to escape the pissed off people who had hired him to off that kid whose hair reminded him of Oodako.

Mist users were often undervalued, but Viper had honed his capacity with his Flame to an art form.  ‘Esper’ wasn’t just a title he had chosen on a whim, Viper had been _special_ long before he had awakened his Flames and the man had simply applied his beliefs to the new, unexpected power.

Once Viper had joined the mafia underground and read about Vindice’s ability to tear a hole in time and space to almost instantly teleport, he had worked for _years_ to create his own version of the ability. 

There were limits, however. 

While Viper could travel almost instantly, he couldn’t take people with him.  When he pulled someone to him- like he was doing to Skull- Viper had to first construct a shell of Mist Flames around the person and _then_ pull them through the tear in space and time. 

Skull hadn’t died when he had been helping Viper test the ability, but any normal person would have and Skull had been in a great deal of pain for _weeks_ before Viper had perfected the skill.

 _‘Even still’,_ Skull thought grimly as he felt the crush of darkness that came with Viper’s ability.  ‘ _I’ve never liked this mode of transportation.’_

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry and Blaise listened as Sirius and Skull debated the merits of a flying motorcycle versus one that could ride on water with more than a little amusement.

Skull had shown up nearly three weeks ago and both boys were fond of him, but the tiny man with purple hair got along like a house on fire with Sirius. 

Sirius’ brother, Regulus, had finally been let out of the healing stasis that they had had him when Sirius, Mammon and Blaise had returned to Grimmauld Place. 

Up until that point the WEATHER Squad’s resident Sun had been tasked with monitoring Regulus with his partner, Niebla, one of Mammon’s Mists.  Regulus had needed to be moved from the Varia back when the ‘inquiry’ had first begun.  Lussuria had originally been on a ‘long term mission’  to cover up the fact that he was watching over the younger Black brother, but eventually Sirius had needed to key in Vivi and Niebla into the wards of Number Twelve because Lussuria had been needed back at HQ.

Sirius had been pleasantly surprised at Niebla’s talent for Cursebreaking and both WEATHER Squad members had been quite gleeful in availing their permission to pillage the Black Library. 

The elder Black brother had been further surprised to discover that Vivi was a Beauxbatons graduate who had hit Flame Activation just after graduation-literally, the same day when some idiots had cornered him- all Varia operatives were referred to as ‘him’ until they requested a different designation- and had chosen to disappear into the Mafia. 

Niebla was actually a Hogwarts alum.  A Hufflepuff who had sat their OWLs in eighty-five.  Niebla had hit Flame Activation the summer after he had sat his OWLs when his witch mother had passed away unexpectedly and his muggle father had attacked him in a grief-induced rage.  Despite the death being ruled as an ‘unfortunate accident’ by the muggle authorities- no magic had been used so the DMLE had not gotten involved in the investigation; the DMLE had only gotten wind of the incident due to the treaty-bound notice from Her Majesty’s liaisons on the nonmagical side of things- Niebla had been treated like a pariah at Hogwarts, from students and staff alike.  There had even been rumors of charges being brought against him in the magical courts.  So, Niebla had gone to Hogsmeade during the Hogsmeade weekend just before Halloween, snapped his wand and left the broken pieces in one of the booths at the Three Broomsticks, and had never again returned to Hogwarts.

At any rate, Regulus was now waking up for a few hours at a time and most of that time was spent with Sirius.  Mammon had been dream-walking with Regulus at night to help the young man piece his mind back together and catch up on everything a bit more efficiently.  Regulus had even participated in a few spell discussions over the mirrors as the younger Black was quite knowledgeable in magic. 

Still, the younger Black was trying to reconcile the fact that he had basically been frozen in time for almost fifteen years.  Even small crowds tended to overwhelm Regulus, so he mostly kept to himself or only had a single visitor- mostly Sirius- at a time.  Mirror conversations were alright, though, so they tried to have at least one discussion with the younger Black and everyone at least once a day, usually just before or during dinner.

After particularly difficult face-to-face sessions with Regulus, Sirius tended to regress a little in his own recovery; retreating into himself and sinking into melancholy.

Skull had been an absolute _blessing_ in helping pull Sirius out of his gloom and setting his mind back on track. 

The two were like peas in a pod and kept each other entertained.  Especially once Harry arrived and Mammon was hammering Japanese, German, and Spanish into the two teen’s brains- along with the customs and lifestyles that went with the languages.  Oh, and Mammon wasn’t letting their Italian or French get rusty either. 

The teens had barely spoken English in a _month_.

Those were only the lessons _before_ Mammon allowed Skull to beat the crap out of them from lunch until dinner.  For a man who had been a civilian before becoming the Cloud Arcobaleno the purple-haired baby was incredibly creative and could certainly bruise the teen’s pride.

It was a challenging, chaotic, and expensive time, but an incredibly rewarding one.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The evening before Harry was to leave for the Weasley’s house saw him spending the evening on the couch with Blaise.  Harry was trying to sound his way through a Japanese children’s book while Blaise was plodding through a rather thick book in German.

“Ugh.” Harry groaned as he snapped the book shut, leaned back and closed his eyes.  “I think my brain is going to start leaking out of my ears.”

Blaise echoed his groan and shut his own book.   “I know.  Mammon’s an excellent teacher, but I really think that I can’t learn anymore for a while.”

“Talking about me, children?” Mammon popped up out of nowhere, prompting both boys to fall into ready positions before they realized who it was and slumped back onto the couch.

“Oh great and terrible educator, mercy!” Harry wailed dramatically, bowing forward and almost face planting on the floor as a result.

Mammon sniffed in offense, but there was humor in his voice when he answered.  “I suppose that if you pay me I shall allow you a short break.”  The tiny miser floated closer to the two as he spoke.

“We’re paying you to teach us as it is!”  Harry goggled at the tiny Mist.

“Exactly.  So for me to stop teaching you would need to pay me more.” Mammon agreed reasonably.

“That is like, extortion or something.” Harry complained with a grin as he dug a Galleon out of his pocket and tossed at the tiny Varia operative whose animal partner, Fantasma, caught the coin lazily.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”  Mammon replied sweetly, looking in Blaise’s direction expectantly and receiving another Galleon for his efforts.

“Any news from HQ?” Harry asked after a few moments of companionable silence.

Mammon shook his head and scowled.  “No.  CEDEF is still trying to cover their asses but after the Boss stormed into Vongola HQ last week and laid all of our evidence on the table it’s pretty obvious to everyone that CEDEF dropped the ball on this.  We figure that we will have them entirely out of HQ in another week or so and then you’ll be able to use your phone again.”

“I just wish that they wouldn’t assume that Xanxus is responsible for everything.”  Harry grumble uncharitably.  “Xanxus is so devoted to the Vongola it’s terrifying to think about sometimes.”

“Hmmm.”  Mammon hummed noncommittally.  “People, even trained investigators, can only see things objectively if they choose to and Sawada and Xanxus have never gotten along.  The whole world runs on money anyways.”

“No arguments here, oh great and terrible collector of all things shiny.”  Blaise retorted lazily.

Just then Sirius came careening down the stairs, laughing like a maniac as Skull chased after him.  The Cloud’s normally purple hair was a rather fetching shade of green.

Well, if one enjoyed bright, eye-searing colors.

“Do we _want_ to know?” Harry mused aloud as his Godfather leapt over the couch _-“Save me!”  Sirius yelped as he tumbled over the back and took shelte_ r- as Skull landed lightly on top of Harry’s shoulder before jumping down to kick Sirius in the head.

“Change me back!” Skull laughed as Sirius grappled with the tiny Cloud Arcobaleno.  “Green is a terrible color for the great Skull-sama!”

“I think it suits you just fine, midget!”  Sirius cackled as he managed to wrestle free and gleefully grabbed his laughing Godson to use as a shield.  “It brings out the colors around your eyes.”  Sirius batted his eyes obnoxiously at Skull as he maneuvered the laughing, squirming Harry around as a human barrier.

“Lies!” Skull retorted cheerfully.  “Purple is the only color that defines the greatness of the mighty Skull-sama!”

“Oi!  Lemme go, you maniac!” Harry yelled as tried to twist away from another one of Skull’s playful jabs. “Fight your own battles!”

“Sacrifice is good for the soul!” Sirius parried jauntily as he continued to wield his unwilling Godson like a professional. “It’ll help put hair on your chest!”

“Aa, but I like him hairless.” Blaise leered outrageously from the couch, snickering as Sirius yelped in surprise, tripped, and lost his grip on Harry.

“Blaise, save me!” Harry laughed as he dove into Blaise’s lap. “He’s trying to masculinize me!  Soon I’ll have a Merlin beard!”

Skull took the opportunity that Harry had provided him to pounce on Sirius and demand that the man change his hair color back. 

“Alright, _fine_ , I can see where my expertise is not wanted.” Sirius grumbled good-naturedly as he changed all but the very back of Skull’s hair to the proper color.

The others tried to keep a straight face, but Skull had gotten to know the man far too well to accept anything he did at face value, so the tiny Cloud Arcobaleno promptly kicked Sirius in the shin and demanded the man fix _”-the glorious Skull-sama’s hair properly!”._

Once everyone was the proper color and calmed down Sirius quirked an eyebrow at his Godson who was still sprawled in Blaise’s lap.  “Something about you two boys that I should know?”  He drawled expectantly.

Harry stiffened slightly and Blaise’s glare sharpened.

“Is there a problem if there is?” Blaise asked fiercely as he automatically adjusted his body to shield his Sky in case of an attack- unaware of the two approving nods he received from the Mist and Cloud Arcobaleno- as he stared down Harry’s Godfather.

Sirius looked startled for a moment before he threw his head back and let out a sharp bark of laughter.  “I just wanted to know because I care for the pup.  I know that growing up with that _hag_ Harry wouldn’t really be prepared for discovering his sexuality, let alone questioning it.  I just don’t want him to get hurt.”  He explained, entirely unoffended by the teen’s posturing.

Harry peered around Blaise curiously. “You mean wouldn’t be mad if there _was_ something going on with Blaise and I?”

Sirius shook his head and smiled warmly as he bounced closer and ruffled his Godson’s hair.  “No.  I think that you’re too young for a sexual relationship, but I wouldn’t be mad or disappointed as long as you were both consenting.”  Sirius flopped down on the couch and pulled Harry’s legs across his lap so they could all fit.  “Just be careful, pup, there are people in this world who would love to use you and intimate relationships are used to accomplish that goal a lot.  I’ve learned a lot about Guardians though, and Blaise is a good kid, but I already messed up big time and got you stuck in Durs-kaban for a decade, I’ve got a lot of years to make up for.”

Harry beamed at his Godfather through the impressive blush that was taking over his face even as he casually threaded his fingers through Blaise’s own and stretched languidly.  “Nah, Blaise and I are pretty tactile, but we’re not lovers at this point.”  Harry’s smile turned into something softer, warmer.  “I’ve been around the Varia too long to put myself in an intimate situation with someone I don’t trust entirely, and the people on that list that would also qualify as a romantic interest are pitifully low, but I wouldn’t change this- any of it- for the world.”

Blaise’s laugh rumbled through Harry as the older teen rested his head on Harry’s hair.  “I instinctively understand as Harry’s Guardian that touch is important to him.  It’s hard to explain…..but even though I know that most of what we do should be sexually charged at our age, it just doesn’t feel that way.  I’m not saying that it never will, but I just know as his Guardian that my Sky needs the constant reminder that I am here with him.  It’s…..frustrating to try to explain.”  Blaise trailed off sourly, annoyed at his lack of eloquence.

Mammon and Skull were nodding, though. 

“You and Harry have an incredibly deep bond.”  Skull explained, smiling a bit wistfully. “And as his only Guardian right now you are solely responsible for your Sky’s wellbeing.  So, you are not only his best friend and Guardian, you are also attempting to fill the void that the absence of the other five Elements causes.  I imagine that Harry will find at least two more Guardians this year.  It’s sort of a natural progression after achieving actual Harmony- Harmonization, whatever- balance makes the Sky seek out their other Elements.  They feel lopsided without them, even if they don’t understand why, exactly.”

“We’re pretty sure that Fred and George are my Storm and Lightning.”  Harry admitted to the occupants of the living room.  Skull claimed the loveseat across from their couch and Mammon had floated down onto an overstuffed chair.  “They achieved Activation at the tail end of last school year.  Blaise and I hammered the need for secrecy into their heads.  I was very careful to not touch them, skin to skin, after they became Flame Active.  Why didn’t the Vindice show up, though?  Don’t they usually visit magicals who go Active?”

“The Vindice would not have revealed themselves if the Actives were in the presence of a noted Flame User.”  Mammon supplied quickly.  “They would have seen you and observed, but they would have only come out of the shadows had you not explained the rules of Flame usage properly.”

“That was excellent planning.  On not touching them skin to skin, that is.  Flames tend to linger just underneath the skin and that is why skin contact can trigger Harmonization.”  Skull chirped cheerily on the heels of Mammon’s statements.  “Storms and Lightnings are two of the most volatile Flame types. They tend to require a lot of close contact after they Harmonize.”

“Reassurance.”  Mammon provided serenely.  “No matter how strongly their Flame Traits are, Storms and Lightnings tend to require a lot of reassurance.  In regards to the Varia- Bel needs to know that Xanxus can make him stop, that Boss won’t let him burn himself up.  Levi needs to know he’s important, that he is useful to Boss.  Granted, neither of them would make good Elements for you, child, but that is why each Sky is different. Harmonization does not occur unless there is a certain amount of personal compatibility between the Flame Users.  Flames are an expression of the _soul_ , so they tend to be brutally honest in a way that words and even actions never achieve.” 

“Blaise is a Cloud.”  Skull said breezily. “He leans more towards a Classic Cloud in terms of fighting ability, but I almost wonder if he could have been a Rain with his temperament.  Harmonized Storms tend to need to feel wanted; they are usually inclined to be problem solvers and innovators.  Harmonized Lightnings tend to need feel like you approve of their accomplishments; they have a habit of thinking flexibly while also being a bit more intuitive than their Storm counterparts. Both types are especially fragile in the early stages of the Guardianhood.”

“You’re actually fairly fortunate-” Mammon continued straightforwardly.  “-with those two being twins you likely won’t have the usual Storm/Lightning rivalry that usually occurs.  You’re still going to need to tread carefully and pay attention to your intuition, however.  The two types tend to butt heads because of their similar yet different talents.  Once they get along, however, nearly nothing can stop them.  Unfortunately most Skies- and Famiglia- tend to try to stereotype and so the Elements are…….taken advantage of.  The Varia, of course, does not prescribe to the traditional norms and that is why we are so successful compared to most others, despite our small size.”

Harry groaned as he began to think of all the things that could possibly go wrong in the near future.  “Sometimes, I really wish I could have just been a Storm.”  He whined.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

Harry had told the Headmaster when he had accepted the invitation that the Dursleys were planning an outing to London and that Harry would just Floo to the Weasley’s home from the Leaky Cauldron. 

Granted, Harry had to arrange for the Dursleys to be gone from Number Four that day to keep up appearances.

With Mammon’s assistance- as well as it being a Sunday- Mrs. Dursley had been more than happy to arrange a family outing.  Due to the short amount of time that Harry had spent at Number Four that summer, he really hadn’t interacted with the occupants much.  Mrs. Dursley seemed to almost want to speak to him sometimes, but Harry had made his peace with the entire situation and had no desire to drag up ancient history.

Harry was entirely excited that Blaise was going to the Cup as well. 

Originally the Italian had planned to stay at Number Twelve until Hogwarts reconvened, but his housemate Theo Nott had sent him an invitation.  Since Theo was one of the Slytherins that made House life bearable, Blaise had decided to attend even though he had no truly strong feelings about attending the Cup itself.

It was with the happy thought that he _wouldn’t_ be separated from his Guardian until school started that Harry threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron and called out his destination.  “The Burrow!”  He said firmly and his world turned green.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Harry managed to emerge from the fireplace with his dignity intact.

Number Twelve had two fireplaces and since they weren’t connected to the main network the Ministry could not regulate them.  Harry had spent three days’ worth of evenings learning how to use the Floo without being spat out like a projectile.  Blaise, Sirius, and Skull had sat on the couch in the living room and laughed at him while munching on popcorn.  Mammon had been with Regulus those evenings and thus missed the show.

Harry dusted himself off and held his shrunken trunk to his chest.  “Hello?”  He called out somewhat hesitantly.

There were the sounds of footsteps and then a burly red-head with shiny scars, laugh lines, and a rather fetching tan entered the room.  “Ah!  You must be Harry!  C’mon in, mate!  MUM!  Company’s here!” He bellowed as he beckoned Harry deeper inside the house.

“Ah!  Welcome!  Show him where he can put his things, dear!”  Mrs. Weasley answered from the back of the house, presumably from the kitchen.

The house hadn’t changed much, Harry mused as he followed the red-head- he suspected that this was Charlie, the Dragon Keeper- up the stairs.  The place was still a patchwork mess of warmth and home, but Harry didn’t feel the ache in his chest or the deep thrum of longing in his veins like he had the last time he had been here.  He still admired it and thought it was brilliant but he no longer felt the bone-deep ache to _belong_.

 _‘I suppose it’s because now when I think of home it’s Lussuria’s fussing over my training injuries, or Squalo correcting my form while he beats the crap out of  me while shouting **VOI!,** or Xanxus giving me one of his ‘what are you a fucking idiot’ looks when I start being stupid.’  _ Harry’s internal ponderings were interrupted by the arrival of Fred and George.

“Harry!” Fred exclaimed cheerfully as he popped into view at the second floor landing, dancing around Charlie’s attempt at grabbing him and sweeping an arm over Harry shoulder while George slipped passed Charlie’s other side and repeated the motion at Harry’s opposite flank.

“-dearest Hadrian-“

“-light of our life-“

“-our hearts, really-“

“-it’s wonderful to see you!” They finished in unison.

Harry gave them an exasperated grin.  He had missed the red-headed menaces more than he thought he had.  “Fred.  George.  How’s your summer been?”

The twins’ grins widened, sharpening into something lethal for a moment, before settling back down and Harry half-wondered if he’d been imagining things.  “Oh, you know-“

“-planning pranks-“

“-playing pranks-“

“-and generally causing mayhem.”

“I see.” Harry replied archly as he gave them his best deadpan expression.  “I see that Fred’s eyebrows have not come out of aforementioned mayhem unscathed.”

“You can actually, honest-to-Merlin tell them apart, can’t you?”  A new voice asked curiously.

Harry looked up to see a tall man with hair that was a much brighter red than his original escort’s tied in a low tail.  He also sported a tooth earring, leather-like pants, and boots that reminded Harry that there was a Basilisk he was going to skin for Xanxus back at Hogwarts. 

“You must be William, the eldest.  I’m pretty sure my original guide is Charlie.”  Harry replied wryly.

“Ah, sorry!  Yeah, I’m Charlie.” The burly man said sheepishly, rubbing at one of the shiny scars on his face as he began to flush in embarrassment.

Harry grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but Bill cut him off.  “Bill, if you would.  My full first name brings back memories of Professor McGonagall.”  All the red-heads shuddered lightly.

“Yeah, I completely understand, mate.  Bill it is, then.”  Harry replied with a laugh.  “Professor McGonagall is quite the scary lady when she’s in a snit.”

“Anyways, as I was saying, you can actually tell these rascals apart, can’t you?  It’s a secretive talent that few have mastered.  I remember this one time, with Aunt Muriel….”  Bill rambled genially as they all began ascending the stairs again. 

Albeit rather slowly as the stairs were rather narrow.  Eventually they reached Ron’s room and Harry slowed without really thinking about it, since this was the room he had stayed in last time.

“Hey now, let’s get this party in a room!” George cut in brightly, gently maneuvering Harry further up the stairs and past Ron’s room.

“I thought he was staying with Ron?” 

Harry was grateful Charlie had asked so he didn’t have to.

Fred shook his head, his red hair fanning out around his face as he and George urged the party forward.  “Nope!  Harrykins and Ronniekins haven’t really gotten along since the start of Second Year.  They’re not enemies, but they’re not really friends either, so Harrykins is with us.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Bill mumbled dryly from his new spot at the rear of the procession as they made it to the twins’ room and arranged themselves on the beds and chairs.

Harry stashed his trunk and grinned at the eldest Weasley, pleased that the twins’ room seemed to be organized chaos instead of sloppy chaos.  After stowing his things he flopped himself down on the bed that was pushed up against the wall, kicking off his shoes as he went, and settling against the wall itself with a stolen pillow as a backrest.  “I’ve lived in the same House as them for three school years, I’ll survive.”

“Bah!” Fred began plopping himself on Harry’s right side, while George made himself comfortable on Harry’s left.  “He thinks so little of us!”

“Indeed!  We must try harder, brother!”  George sniffed in offended outrage.

“Methinks-“

“-that you both need to stop that irritating twin speak shite before I hit you idiots.” Harry cut in dryly, giving each twin their very own ‘you’re giving me a bloody headache’ glare.

Fred and George shared some sort of secret grin, but complied. 

“If we must, dear one.”

“Thank you.”  Harry said gratefully, fighting the urge to rub his forehead to ease his budding headache. “It’s funny watching you to talk other people in circles, but it gives me a bloody headache when you switch off constantly.”

“We’ll try to remember that, mustn’t upset the great and powerful pyromaniac.”  George returned brightly, but it seemed as if both twins had settled from the somewhat agitated state that they had been in when they’d first met up with him.

“So, someone want to explain?” Bill asked from his position on the bean bags in front of the bed beside Charlie. “Or should we guess that you’ve got some sort of love triangle going on?  I’d be happy to inform Mum of the impending love-ritual grandbabies.”  

Harry’s offended squawk was music to his ears.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The young men hung out in Fred and George’s room until they were called down for dinner.  Most of the conversation had been about Harry’s trip to the Chamber of Secrets- as both of the elder boys had been keenly interested, albeit for different reasons- but Harry had also gotten to hear some fantastic stories about the older brother’s chosen professions.

Dinner that evening could have been awkward with Ron’s complaints and sulky comments once the twins had informed him of Harry’s sleeping arrangements.  Fortunately Harry got on well enough with the two eldest Weasley boys and the twins were enough of a buffer that he really had not noticed.  Mrs. Weasley seemed to want to pry, but the elder Weasley sons were quick to distract her.  Ginny was quiet enough to be a nonentity, though Harry did smile reassuringly at her when she caught his gaze on accident.  Mr. Weasley spent whatever time he could get a word in edgewise quizzing Harry on various mundane artifacts and their uses, much like he had during Harry’s previous visit.

Since all of the underage magicals had to be up nearly ludicrously early for the Portkey, Harry slipped back upstairs to grab the gifts that he had put together for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley once dinner was over.  One of Xanxus’ etiquette lessons was that you _always_ brought gifts for your hosts, and Harry had forgotten that last time so he wanted to make up for it this time.

Thankfully, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still in the kitchen though the other members had migrated to the living room; save for the twins, who had caught up to him on his way back downstairs but were content to follow him to see what was happening for the moment.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” Harry called politely from the doorway to the kitchen, trying to break into their conversation courteously.

“Ah, Harry dear!  Can I get you something?”  Mrs. Weasley asked with a bright smile, Mr. Weasley just looked curious.

Harry grinned at the matronly woman.  Oh, he hadn’t forgotten her faults, but it was difficult to hold a grudge when she seemed so sincere. “No, my Aunt threw an etiquette book at me last summer and I realized that I had been an ungrateful guest last time I was here.”  Harry gently steamrolled over the immediate protests and set the simple, but elegant baskets down on the table. “It’s not really much, but I wanted to give you something as a thank you for having me.  Thanks!”  Harry smiled brightly at them and watched attentively as they went to open the neatly wrapped baskets.

Skull, believe it or not, had helped him wrap them in the cheerful material.  Harry had figured that material would be more practical than paper as Mrs. Weasley liked to make things.

“Ah!  Muggle pens!”  Mr. Weasley cried enthusiastically as he set aside the material.  “And the bounded kind of Muggle paper!  You even got some Muggle paperyclippers!  Thank you, Harry!”

“You didn’t have to get us anything, dear, but these soaps seem positively lovely.”  Mrs. Weasley said with a smile, but her eyes were bright and Harry allowed her to sweep him into a bone-crushing hug before thanking the couple once again for their hospitality and retreating upstairs with the twins.

The twins teased Harry a little, but he could tell that they were pleased that he had thought of their parents.  Though they hadn’t been in the room Harry had noted the speculative glances that Charlie and Bill had thrown at them on their way up the stairs.

Harry stilled suddenly as he brushed his teeth during his turn in the bathroom as he realized that ‘being able to tell’ that the twins were pleased with his gifts to his hosts was more like being able to _sense_ it- as in the being able to sense Blaise type of sense.

Warmth blossomed inside his chest, nearly knocking him off his feet.  The small presence that he associated with Blaise seemed to suddenly grow amused. 

‘ _The twins’ bare arms were against my neck for almost ten minutes when I got here, even though I was careful to not make skin contact while we were sitting together and at dinner.’_   Harry realized with no small amount of trepidation. _‘We Harmonized.  Shit.  We’re going to be in huge crowds for potentially the next week and my Storm and Lightning Guardians are freshly Harmonized and Blaise can’t be around us the whole time to help ground them.  Merde.’_

Harry stumbled back into the room that he was sharing with the twins in a bit of a daze, and once they were all ready to turn in for the night Harry spoke up.  “Guys, we need to talk…..”

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The talk with the twins went late into the night, but they took the news of them being Harmonized with Harry quite well. 

Harry had offered- in a moment of infinite stupidity, brought on by guilt- to break the Harmonization.  The guilt came from not having told them about the mafia part- he _couldn’t_ , not without permission from Xanxus- and not wanting to drag them into the lifestyle he had chosen for himself.  Blaise had already had a toe in the Mafia waters, but twins had no ties to the dark underworld and Harry did not want to make a decision like that for them.

The twins had nearly gone into hysterics- which had been terrifying- and once he had gotten them calmed down Harry had been forced to swear to never even consider such a thing again by his two distraught newly-minted Guardians.

The morning came early though, and it was well before sunrise when they were out the door and hiking through the woods.  Harry was tired, but after a summer of training with Skull and Mammon- not to mention Levi and Squalo back at Varia HQ- it was not too intolerable. 

They met up with Amos Diggory and his son, Cedric, about halfway to their destination.  Harry and Cedric chatted amiably throughout the hike, but the twins were being particularly territorial and snippy and Amos Diggory seemed to think that Harry’s very existence was an affront to his son.   

It made things rather awkward for Harry at some points, but Cedric just seemed to smooth out any issues with an easy grin or funny remark.

When they made it to the Portkey, everyone put a finger onto the old, muddy boot and then they were off to the Cup.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――

Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric seemed to be the only ones who escaped the ungainly pile of limbs that appeared in the field where the Cup was being held.  Harry groaned as he felt whoever had landed on top of him put their foot on his kidney and when a hand appeared in his line of sight he gratefully took a hold of it and allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet.

It was only after he looked into startled storm-grey eyes that he realized what had happened.

 _‘Well, that makes four Guardians.’_   Harry thought wryly as he gave Cedric his best smile and tried to think of a way to tell the other teen that he’d explain this life-altering event later.  The full effect of Harmonization was not present, but there was a definitive sense of attachment that was only a few shades shy of the warmth that pulsed in time with his heartbeat that signified Blaise, Fred, and George.  Harry could feel the fledgling Bond tentatively stretch along the metaphoric ties; the new connection cool and smooth like the gentle rhythm of a summer’s playful shower.

“Next Portkey is due in five minutes, get a move on!”  The Ministry official that had been talking to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory barked loudly, breaking the moment as Cedric dropped Harry’s hand. 

Cedric proved to be intuitive and didn’t make a scene, but the twins must have seen something on Harry’s face or felt their own connections snap into place as fellow Guardians because the unnatural hostility that they had been displaying all morning finally dissipated.

They found their campsites and Harry was highly entertained by watching Mr. Weasley- who insisted on putting up the tent the ‘Muggle way’ since they were in a Muggle area; even though it was basically a magical fairground, with some of the tents being mini-castles complete with turrets and then there was that one that had the smoking chimneys- struggle with the tent stakes.  Harry firmly pushed back the irritation that he felt whenever the well-meaning man unintentionally put nonmagicals in the same class that the Dursleys used to put freaks. 

The young Potter was grateful, nonetheless, when everything was set up and Mr. Weasley was sufficiently distracted by visiting passerbys that the twins were attuned enough to follow his lead when he melted into the crowd.

They didn’t get far before Cedric caught up to them.

“Hey guys!”  The outgoing Hufflepuff greeted cheerfully.

“Hey Cedric.” Harry replied from between the twins- as they each had claimed one of his shoulders as an armrest.  Harry studiously ignored the fact that they were acting like territorial guard hounds to just about everyone else around them.

Harry was actually quite anxious in crowds.  The nearly crippling anxiety when faced with large mobs was part of the reason why he had been so damn proud of himself for sneaking around nonmagical London after Second Year and then with the debacle with the Barrier that September, when he had had to use the Tube.  Having had firm goals in mind had certainly helped back then, but the stress of being in such a large crowd when there was no objective and he had no safe place to hide away was rather overwhelming.

Hence the twins playing bodyguard.

“So-” Cedric said casually as they meandered through the stalls.  “-what was that earlier?”

“It’s complicated.”  Harry replied with a light laugh.  Apparently his newest Element possessed some pretty sharp instincts.  “Can we wait until the Express?  Not really the time or place, ya know?”

“No problem.”  Cedric agreed easily, but his eyes were sharp and his smile was keen.  “I’ll hold you to that though.”

“I swear I’ll explain everything that I am allowed to then.”  The young Sky swore seriously; catching and holding the storm-grey gaze of his newest Element until Cedric’s hackles smoothed and his posture relaxed.

“Alrighty then, mate.  The Express it is.”  Cedric agreed cheerfully as he moved a bit further away from the group.

The older teen stayed near the trio, but wasn’t really part of the group for the next few hours as they shopped.  Harry ended up buying a few things here and there, mostly for the Varia members he knew as most things for sale were souvenir-type trinkets.  The twins and Harry didn’t want to head back towards the campsite for lunch, they- Cedric included as the older teen had wandered back into their group by that point- picked up some food and began a tour of the more eccentric tents that were dotting the campground.

It was during their ‘Tour de Tent’ that they met up with Blaise and Nott. 

“Blaise!” Harry shouted over the din of people. “Over here!”

Blaise looked up as soon as he heard Harry’s voice, and he dragged Nott with him over to the foursome. “Adi!  Diabolic Duo!  Oh, hey Diggory.”

Harry knew it had only been about a day since he had last seen his Cloud Guardian, but damn did it felt like an age had passed.  It wasn’t all that difficult to pretend as if he had genuinely not seen Blaise all summer.  “How are you?  Hey, Nott!”

Theodore Nott was a quiet Slytherin. Nott’s skin that was more reminiscent of a good summer’s tan as opposed to Blaise’s light mocha-toned hue.  Nott had the kind of dark eyes that were difficult to determine the color of, and was lanky in the manner that all young men who end up being tall are during puberty.  Nott was the dangerous kind of Slytherin, according to Blaise, cunning and ambitious but patient and cautious as well. 

So, really, Harry didn’t have it in him to be surprised when he shook Nott’s hand and felt the newest fledgling Element bond snap into place.

Blaise must have felt it too because his whole face lit up in a smile. “Well, now, that’s fo-ah, nope, five.”

“Things have escalated quickly.”  Harry quipped with a wry grin as he felt the airy touch of Nott’s presence slither into that space behind his diaphragm and cautiously fan out to follow along the connecting bonds.

“Around you, Adi, they always do!”  Blaise replied with an extra bright grin.

“What just happened?” Nott’s soft tenor brought the other two back to reality.  The teen’s eyes were intent and he seemed to be a bizarre mix of half-elated and half-terrified.

“It has to do with my Zio Tito, Theo.”  Blaise informed his Housemate with a meaningful look.  “I imagine the best time to explain everything would be on the Express?”  Blaise directed the last part towards Harry.

“I know it’s a little over a week away, but I’ll explain everything that I’m allowed to then.”  Harry said agreeably; deeply pleased that Nott seemed to relax at Blaise’s statement.

The very _last_ thing Harry wanted to do was force someone into Harmonization against their will!

Nott gave Harry a searching stare and Harry met it steadily.  Apparently he passed some sort of test because Nott eventually nodded in agreement and Cedric stepped in to enthusiastically invite the two Slytherins on the ‘Tour de Tent’.

Blaise met Harry’s eyes from across the group and Harry saw the same excitement in them that must have been in his own.

_‘Only one more Element left and we’ll be complete.’_

―――ᴖᴗ―――

They eventually headed back to the Weasley campsite in the mid-afternoon.  Nott- “ _call me Theo”-_ had actually come with some distant relatives who weren’t particularly concerned about his whereabouts.   Theo had stopped in to tell them that he was with Blaise and he’d probably attend the game separately from them and they had barely noticed; something that had bothered Harry greatly. 

Once they reached the Weasley campsite there was a tense moment or two with Ron, but then Hermione showed up with Bill and Charlie- who were of age and could therefore _Apparate_ ; lucky bastards- and everyone was distracted.  Hermione was apparently Ginny’s guest, and she quite clearly wanted to talk to Harry but Harry’s Elements were surprisingly good at working together to keep everyone distracted.

After nearly a full day of being in a large, pushy crowd and gaining four new bonds, Harry’s nerves were already frayed.  So, he was incredibly grateful for the assistance in keeping things peaceful and non-confrontational.

Sunset finally came and everyone trudged towards the stadium for the game.

―――ᴖᴗ―――

The Cup game had been brilliant; though lasting a full night, all of the next day, and into the next night was a little long for a Quidditch game, in Harry’s humble opinion.  The after parties were certainly _spectacular,_ though. 

The parties eventually wound down and everyone crashed inside their respective tents.  Or, at least, all of those with a modicum of sense crashed.

 Cedric, Harry, Fred, George, Blaise, and Theo all ended up crashing in Cedric’s tent.  They would have gone back to the Nott one but Mr. Weasley- who had been remarkably open minded about the Slytherins in Harry’s party- had been far more comfortable with allowing them to crash in the Diggory tent as it was next door to the Weasley one.

The newly Bonded Elements were far too tired to even consider demanding explanations and everyone fell asleep in a pile of limbs and party favors.

It could not have been more than an hour or two later that Harry jerked awake.  

‘ _Something’s wrong.’_ He thought fuzzily as he tried to rouse himself to full consciousness.  Harry reached out a hand and started shaking the nearest person. “W’ke ‘p.” He slurred, his tongue feeling like he had guzzled a bottle of molasses recently.  “S’mth’ns wr’ng.”

Blaise jerked awake on the other side of the pile. “Adi?”  He managed thickly.

Harry swallowed a few times and tried to get his tongue to cooperate. “My intuition woke me up.  Something’s wrong.”

Apparently the others could feel Harry’s distress despite most of the other Bonds not being fully realized just yet because it wasn’t much longer before they were all blinking the sleep out of their eyes. 

“Was’ happen’?” Someone asked blearily.

“You’ll learn-” Blaise told them seriously as he rummaged around and found some non-sweetened liquid for them to drink.  “- that if Harry’s weird intuition says that something is wrong, something is definitely _wrong_.”

It was just a few minutes later, when they all had managed to get to their feet and get something to drink that a frantic Bill came bursting into the tent. “Good, you’re all awake.  There are Death Eaters attacking the campground.  You lot need to get out of here.”

The teens all shared loaded looks. “What’s the plan?” Cedric asked as they followed Bill out of the tent.

“Take Ginny and Hermione and head towards the trees.” Mr. Weasley ordered them briskly as the group congregated in front of the Weasley tent.  “Fred, George, Ginny is your responsibility!” 

Then he and the two eldest Weasley sons headed towards the panicked screaming nearer to the Stadium.  Once past the entrance to the Diggory tent the teens had been able to hear the sounds of pandemonium while the abruptly cloying scents of fire, smoke, and fear had made it difficult to breathe.

Hermione and Ginny were huddled together, both still half asleep and scared, while Ron was making whining noises about wanting to fight, but all the Guardians looked to Harry by instinct. 

Harry took a few moments to take the situation in, momentarily shoving the screams of panic and suffocating scents away as he tried to put everything that he had been taught to use.

The campground was bordered by a forest which would provide cover, but it would also be ridiculously easy to get lost if they were separated.  The Stadium’s hulking mass stood to their right and the tent population grew thicker the closer to the stadium you went.  The attack seemed to be originating from their left and there was a rather ghastly moor where the forested area tapered off, which ruled out three of the directions on principle.

The forest it was, then.

Harry internal observations had taken less than a minute.

“Alright, we’ll make our way towards the forest.”  He decided briskly.  “Put the girls in the middle of the group.  Cedric, Fred, and George will cover our backs, Theo and Blaise will be with me in front.  Ron, you keep an eye on our left side, that’s where the attacks originate from.  Everyone keep your eyes peeled for children who have been separated from their parents or anything like that.  Let’s move.”

The Guardians fell into position rather naturally and the group started moving despite a few- mostly token- protests from the other three.  

Blaise had an excellent set of eyes and they managed to pick their way through the chaos quite efficiently, adding more than a few lost children, teens, adults, and elderly to the organized looking party.  After the party had snagged a few wizards who were of age Harry put them at their backs, constantly shifting the group around as they added members and no one seemed to mind that Harry was giving orders.  When they finally made it to the forested area Blaise’s sharp eyes quickly found a clearing they could use.

Harry was giving orders and making all the important decisions without being fully cognizant of the amount of responsibility that he was shouldering; his Guardians smoothly assisting and advising him as if they had all been together for years as opposed to hours. 

Other people noticed, however.  They observed and respected Harry’s initiative.  His calm manner and adaptability as well as his ability to make excellent snap decisions under pressure.

Harry arranged a watch, and requested that the of-age wizards set up a few defensive enchantments, thanking Merlin that it was bright enough with the moon to not need an alternate source of light.  Harry then asked some of the calmer matronly ladies in the group to entertain the children; meanwhile Harry set Cedric and Blaise to organizing those who knew magical first aid in establishing a makeshift field infirmary.  Fred, George, and Theo were kept busy keeping a vigilant eye on their surroundings and organizing new arrivals as a few of the of-age magicals had gone back out into the chaos to bring more people to the safe haven that had been created. 

For almost an hour it was almost peaceful.

Then came Draco Malfoy who picked a fight with Ron and before Harry realized what was happening Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had all chased after the prat.

Outside the boundaries of the protective enchantments and into the uncertain darkness of the forest.

“Dammit!” Harry cursed as he made to follow them, his Elements immediately moving to follow.

“Lad.”  One of the older wizards called softly as Harry passed and Harry paused to listen to him. “You can’t leave us.”

“Look I’ll be-“  Harry placated, only to be cut off kindly, but determinedly.

“He’s right, dearie.” One of the elderly ladies that they had stopped to help out of her burning tent agreed with the man.  The woman’s cornflower blue eyes were gentle but her tone was firm.  “You’ve led us here and secured the area, you’re our leader.  Look around dearie, if you walk out on us now things will descend into panic.”

Harry wanted to open his mouth and argue that he was _fourteen years old_ and _couldn’t even use his wand_ , but yet another one of Xanxus’ lessons stopped him.

 _[Look, shitty brat, as the Boss you have to make the tough fucking decisions.  If you give orders and some trash decides to go off on his own, it doesn’t matter who the fuck it is, you let them go.  Your first fucking priority is always your people.  Don’t punish the ones who followed your orders to go chase after the idiots who couldn’t be bothered to fucking listen.  Delegate if they’re that fucking important to you, but the people depend on the Boss, so don’t be a fucking idiot._ ]

 _‘Not exactly the same.’_  Harry thought resignedly as he observed the panic in the twins’ eyes and felt his chest twinge uncomfortably. ‘B _ut the principle is sound.’_

Harry grit his teeth and made his decision. 

He walked over to a group of magicals who had helped set up the defensive enchantments. “We’re missing three Hogwarts students.  Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.  Ron and Ginny are siblings of the twins-” Harry gestured at his red-haired Elements.  “-and Hermione is of average height with curly brown hair.  They disappeared within the last ten minutes and were last seen at the western edge of the camp.  Would you be willing to go look for them?”

Two men- they seemed to be brothers somewhere around the age of thirty, nodded almost immediately- and a middle-aged looking but sharp eyed witch close enough to hear rose to join them. 

“Thank you.”  Harry told them sincerely.

The witch gave him a small smile that reminded Harry of the ones that Mammon gave on special occasions. “Of course, Mr. Potter.  Your maturity in such an hour is a credit to your character.”

The trio quickly headed towards the trees in the direction Harry had gestured towards.

Harry turned back to look at the twins. “I’m so sorry guys, but I couldn’t-“

Fred reached out and squeezed Harry shoulder and George mirrored him. “You made the right choice, they shouldn’t have left.”  Fred reassured his friend.

Harry nodded wearily, grateful for the twins’ understanding but more than a little angry at how helpless he felt.  The reassuring warmth behind his diaphragm helped him keep his cool, though, something which he was incredibly grateful for.

Then someone hollered for him and yet another group arrived and he was back to seeing to the people’s needs with his Elements.

It was almost two and a half hours after camp had been established that the Ministry arrived on the scene.

A woman in bright red robes, with close cropped grey hair and a monocle strode forward. “Who is in charge here?” She demanded to know.

Harry was perfectly happy with one of the others taking charge, but everyone turned to look at him.  ‘ _Traitors.’_ “That’s me, I guess.  Who are you and how can I help you?”

The woman- and the other people in crimson robes behind her- looked rather dumbfounded for a moment before the woman regained her wits.  “I am Amelia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; behind me are some of my Aurors.  _You_ organized all this?”  She interrogated suspiciously.

Harry nodded, exhausted and so far beyond the need for niceties that it was no longer amusing. “Yes, with assistance from everyone here.  If you have some actual Healers somewhere we have several people who could use them; most pressingly some small children who need to be looked at as soon as possible.  Two wizards and a witch left about an hour ago at my request to retrieve Ron and Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger who left the camp to chase after Draco Malfoy.” 

Amelia nodded sharply at Harry and started barking orders, causing the crimson-robed Aurors to burst into action.

Not ten minutes later Arthur Weasley, the missing students, the people Harry had sent, Mr. Diggory and several others came stumbling into the camp. 

The witch from earlier walked up to Harry.  “When we caught up to them they were lost and they refused to come with us.  Shortly after that the Dark Mark was cast, and then the cavalry arrived.”  The woman’s lips thinned in irritation. “Director Crouch, the balding little man with the bright red face, dismissed his House Elf who had young Mr. Weasley’s wand.  The wand tested positive for casting the Dark Mark, but as we were all there as witnesses the _esteemed_ Director couldn’t have the young man arrested.”

Harry really wanted to sleep for about a year. “Thank you- all three of you- for going after them.  I’m sorry that they didn’t cooperate.  I really appreciate it.”

“Think nothing of it, Mr. Potter.”  The woman assured him with that strange smile playing about her lips.  “Although if you truly wished to thank me perhaps you could lend some of that maturity to my nephew, Adrian.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in thought.  “Adrian….Pucey?”

“Yes, that’s my nephew.”  She replied, a delighted grin spreading over her face at the neutral tone.

“And our nieces, if you’re in this maturity encouragement business.”  One of the men said with a wry grin.  “Daphne is mature but she’s far too serious.  Astoria on the other hand, well, that one’s a handful.”

They were interrupted by Mr. Weasley at that point, but Harry swore to remember those names.

―――ᴖᴗ―□―∞―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞◊―●―○ᴖᴗ―□―∞―≡―◊―●―○―ᴖᴗ―◊―――


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